


Silent Screams

by flashytonystark



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), a game of thrones - Fandom
Genre: Acceptance, Agony, Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ambiguity, Breaking down, Domestic Fluff, Drinking, Drinking to Cope, Emotional, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Falling Apart, Family, Family Drama, Father-Daughter Relationship, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Heartbreaking, Hiding, Internal Conflict, Lies, Love, Marriage, Personal Demons, Secrets, Struggle, Support, Triggers, Understanding, breakdown - Freeform, coming to terms, internal demons, mental break, supportive family, trigger warning, unravelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-04-08 07:31:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 25,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4296057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flashytonystark/pseuds/flashytonystark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's not sure how it happened or how he's gotten to this point in his life, but Jon Stark has found himself alone, struggling with his own personal demons, unable to fight them off, all while simultaneously trying to raise his five year old daughter by himself. He won't get the help he needs, even when offered from his family. How much longer can he keep this up? How much longer until he finally cracks and loses it all?</p><p>A/N: This is a modern AU where Jon was adopted by the Stark family when he was a little boy. That's why he has the last name of "Stark" instead of "Snow" when I write. Also, this story will go back and forth between present day and flashbacks, but each chapter and section is clearly labeled, so you know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Charlotte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a rough few months for Jon and he's finding it's easier to drink to forget--but then there's his daughter and she needs him because Ygritte isn't there anymore. It's just the two of them now. He loves his daughter to pieces--he'd never deny it--but sometimes, she reminds him too much of Ygritte and it makes him want to scream and he hates it.

_**March 2014—Present Day** _

Jon was standing at the kitchen sink, his eyes glassy as he stared out the window. A small glass tumbler was clutched in his hand while the other gripped the countertop so tightly his knuckles had turned white. He paid no mind to the tingling sensation creeping its way through his hand and wrist; he was at war with his thoughts—with his memories. 

His hand holding the tumbler started to shake. He tore his gaze away from the scene out the window and looked down, confusion and surprise spreading across his haggard features as if he had never experienced a shaking hand. He blinked a few times before bringing the tumbler to his lips and draining the remains of the amber liquid. It burned. Gods it burned. From his throat, to his chest, to his stomach, it  _burned._ It burned deep and warm,  _like fire,_ he thought.  _It burns like fire; like her._

He welcomed the sensation happily. It helped him _feel._ He wasn't as numb when he was drinking, he had discovered. He ran his thumb along the middle of the glass as he lazily eyed the now-empty tumbler he cradled in his palm. He thought about pouring himself a third, fourth, maybe even a fifth or sixth, but didn't. It was the small tugging at his pant leg that made the decision for him. With a soft sigh, he placed the tumbler in the empty sink, shifted slightly, and looked down at the source of the tugging. 

His somber expression was immediately replaced with a smile. There was no way for him to not to smile at such a happy little girl. Charlotte. His Charlotte. His Charlotte with the wild and fiery red hair—Ygritte's hair—and the blue eyes that sometimes appeared to be gray, just like her mother's. 

The thought made his stomach tie itself angrily in knots and he clenched his fists together as he fought off the rising bile in the back of his throat. He took in a deep breath and bent down to pick up the smiling little girl and propped her on his hip. 

"How can I help you, little lady?"

Charlotte smiled and let out a small giggle. "My movie is done now. Can you come put  _Tangled_ in now? Please!"

"It's just about lunch time. You can watch  _Tangled_ after lunch, alright?" He reached up and attempted to tame her unruly curls—his curls—that stuck out all over her head in funny places. Charlotte grumpily pushed his hand away with a huff. She looked so much like Ygritte in that brief moment that Jon tensed up. Thankfully, Charlotte didn't notice.

"Daddy, you're messin' with my hair! Stop!"

"Well _sorry_ little princess. Your hair is sticking up in funny ways and it makes you look silly."

Charlotte rolled her eyes and reached up to touch her hair, as if to check and make sure that it wasn't _too_ messed up from Jon's attempt to fix it. "Can I have peanut butter and jelly for lunch?"

"Of course you can. Go turn the tv off and go to the table. I'll get your lunch ready while you do that." He kissed her forehead before putting her back on her feet and sent her on her way. It took everything he had not to scream out as he watched her walk out of the kitchen, reminding him so much of Ygritte as she did so. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this quick little chapter! Sorry for making it so short. I needed something a little fluffy to set the story up, and I wanted to start showing Jon's internal struggle. And yes, there's a bit of ambiguity in the chapter and story summaries both and the actual chapter for a reason. Chapter two will be posted soon and it'll be much longer. 
> 
> Chapter two will be filled with flashback snippets of Jon and Ygritte before the arrival of little Miss. Charlotte. 
> 
> In the mean time, I hope to hear some feedback from you guys and I'd love it if you'd review. Constructive criticism always helps me make my future writing better. And if you like this so far, don't forget to bookmark it to keep up to date! More chapters coming soon! 
> 
> Also, thanks to one of my awesome readers (optimusprime) for asking me to do picsets for the characters--Each chapter will have at least one picset that relates to the chapter. *Note, all picsets belong to me*
> 
> Happy reading!


	2. Pretty Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re extremely obnoxious. Has anyone ever told you that?” he asked as the bartender placed another beer down in front of him.  
> Ygritte shrugged. “A time or two, but that’s the way people like me. Now shut up and drink, Pretty Boy. It’s not every day I buy a guy a drink, ya know.”
> 
> This chapter contains flashback snippets of four important events in Jon and Ygritte's life and relationship together, all ranging between April of 2007 and August 2008, starting with when and how they first met.
> 
> Also, thanks to one of my awesome readers (optimusprime) for asking me to do picsets for the characters--Each chapter will have at least one picset that relates to the chapter. *Note, all picsets belong to me*

               

**_April 2007_ **

She had spilled her beer all over him and she was _laughing_ about it; laughing so hard it brought tears to her already glassy eyes, he noticed. Gods, why was she _laughing?_ It wasn’t funny. His jeans and shirt were soaked and now he reeked of beer. She was still laughing. Laughing, laughing, laughing and it was bloody contagious, damn it. Everyone had started laughing by now—everyone but him.

“Here, here! Lemme help ya! I didn’t mean to spill it on ya. I’m just clumsy is all.”

 _Obnoxious and clumsy and drunk,_ he thought bitterly as he stared at his now soaked lap.

The “obnoxious” redhead grabbed a wad of napkins from the bar and hastily pressed them to his crotch. He yelped in surprise and pushed her hands away, his eyes wide as she covered her mouth, a soft giggle escaping her lips.

“I’ll take care of it, thanks!” he shouted, a deep blush creeping up his neck. “You just don’t go putting your hands in places like that, you know! Especially when you don’t know the person and they don’t know you.”

The girl reached for another stack of napkins and pushed them toward him with her perfectly manicured nails and tried to bite back another laugh. “Fine, fine. I was just tryna help ya is all. As far as not knowin’ me, let me introduce myself: I’m Ygritte. And who are _you_ exactly?”

“I’m just a guy at a bar, alright?” he muttered as he dropped her gaze and grabbed for more napkins. He didn’t have _time_ for this. Not today, especially from some redhead named _Ygritte._

“A guy with an attitude _and_ a pretty face. Alrigh’ Pretty Boy, I’ll play your little game. Oi! Bartender! My new found friend Pretty Boy here needs another beer, and so do I—put them on my tab, will ya?”

“My name _isn’t_ Pretty Boy….”

“Now it is. Ya won’t divulge yer real name, so that’s what I’ll call ya… Pretty Boy.”

“You’re extremely obnoxious. Has anyone ever told you that?” he asked as the bartender placed another beer down in front of him.

Ygritte shrugged. “A time or two, but that’s the way people like me. Now shut up and drink, Pretty Boy. It’s not every day I buy a guy a drink, ya know.”

* * *

**_October 2007_ **

“Seven  _Hells_ _,_ Yggy! Do you have enough _shit?_ I’m gonna have to get rid of all of my things just to accommodate all of yours!”

Ygritte poked her head out the kitchen door and just grinned that stupid, crooked grin of hers that Jon always wanted to hate—especially when she was being annoying—but he never could bring himself to do so. He glared at her from where he stood and dropped the box he was holding that was marked “BOOKS” at his feet with a loud bang.

“Don’t look at me like that, Pretty Boy. Ya love me and ya know it.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” he replied as he nudged the box out of his way with his foot. “There are still three boxes downstairs in the car. What are you doing in there anyway?”

“Putting things away. What boxes are left?”

“More books and I think a box of DVDs.”

“Then ya can handle it. I believe in ya.” She grinned, blew him a kiss, and ducked back into the kitchen before Jon had a chance to protest. Sighing, he went back downstairs to gather the remaining boxes and bring them back up.

“You know, I’m beginning to think _I_ should have been the one to move in with _you_ ,” he called out after he shut the door with his foot, the final box of books in his hands.

“Now that’s just silly. Yer place is much bigger and closer to work for the both of us.”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t have to mess with carrying in all of your shit either.”

Ygritte picked up a pillow from the couch and tossed it at his head before going back to putting her books on Jon’s once empty bookshelves. “Shut up and order pizza for dinner. I’m not cooking—I want to unpack as much of this as I can tonight.”

“Is there ever a moment when you’re _not_ thinking about food?”

“Never, Pretty Boy. Now go—I’m hungry.”

Jon rolled his eyes but did as she asked and called to order pizza. They spent the rest of the evening unpacking Ygritte’s boxes and lounged on the couch, shoving pizza into their faces. When they finally stumbled into bed, exhausted, Ygritte immediately cuddled up to Jon’s side like she always did and buried her face in his neck.

“I love you, Yggy,” Jon mumbled through a yawn, giving her a gentle squeeze as his arms snaked around her protectively.

“Love ya too, Pretty Boy. Now get some sleep.”

* * *

**_December 2007_ **

“Pretty Boy if ya make us late to yer parents, I’m gonna kick yer arse! Now let’s _go_.”

Jon sulked out of their bedroom, hands shoved deep into his pockets, and looked at her, his brows furrowed together. He looked nervous or sick, and he spoke quickly. “I changed my mind. Let’s skip dinner with my family and stay here and I’ll just cook.”

“Pretty Boy, _what_ has gotten into ya lately? It’s just yer family; we’ve done family dinners with them a lot over the past eight months. And besides, it’s yer family’s traditional Christmas Eve dinner, and Robb and Jeyne will have the baby with them, and I want to see him!”

“Yeah, I know it is, but—,”

Ygritte cut him off and threw his coat at him, followed by his gloves and scarf. “No buts, Pretty Boy. It’s family time and we’re going. Now let’s go before yer mother has a heart attack because we’re not there already.”

Defeated, Jon put on his coat, gloves, and scarf and grabbed his keys from the hook by the door. “Ghost,” he called, whistling for the beast. “Let’s go buddy! Let’s go see Grandma and Grandpa!” The dog bounded from his usual place on the couch and met Jon and Ygritte at the door, tail wagging excitedly. Ygritte hooked him to his leash and the three of them left.

The Stark household was lively and full of laughter. Jon and Ygritte were greeted by hugs and more laughter as they were practically pulled inside by Arya and Sansa who were sporting their traditional ugly Christmas sweaters.

“Sorry we’re late! Pretty Boy here was taking too long in the bathroom. Couldn’t pull ‘em away from the mirror,” she laughed.

“Aye, sounds like Jon alright—always did love his hair a bit _too_ much,” Robb teased as he greeted the couple, already holding out his son for Ygritte to hold. She scooped the baby up excitedly, headed for the kitchen to find Cat, and began to babble to him, causing the sickening look to leave Jon’s face; it didn’t last long though.

That evening, the entire Stark family happily ate together, taking the time to enjoy the company and catch up. It wasn’t often that everyone was able to make their schedules work out to where they could all meet up for dinner, but Christmas Eve was the one exception. Once the dishes had been cleared away, they all made their way into the living room to open the Christmas Eve stockings Ned and Cat put together each year for everyone, including their children’s dogs. Even Ygritte received one, which made her tear up a bit. No one dared to mention the fact for fear that she might punch them for saying she was crying.

Ygritte was watching Jon curiously across the room as he messed with Ghost’s collar. Curiosity getting the best of her, she called out over the various conversations being held, “Pretty Boy! What are ya doin’?” she laughed.

“Mum and Dad always get the dogs new collars and treats at Christmas time. I figured I’d put his new collar on him,” he replied as he walked back across the room, taking up his spot on the couch beside her.

“Oh,” Ygritte said as she looked over at him. “Ya sure yer alright? You’ve been actin’ weird all day, Pretty Boy.”

“I’m _fine,_ Yggy. I told you I wanted to stay home….” He wiped the palms of his hands repeatedly on his jeans and sighed. Ygritte made a face at him and turned to Sansa and Arya who were in the middle of a conversation and joined in.

She was deep in conversation with the two girls when Jon whistled for Ghost. He perked and lifted his head at the noise. “Ghost, to me and Yggy.” The dog jumped up and bounded across the room, jumping onto Ygritte as Jon moved out of the way, ending Sansa’s story prematurely.

“Ghost!” Ygritte laughed as he began licking at her face. “Stop it, ya silly pup!” Once she got him settled back down, something caught her eye as he laid his head in her lap. She paused before ruffling her fingers through the fur near his collar, a concerned look on her face. She stopped after a brief moment and looked up at Jon who was now standing in front of her, pale and wide-eyed.

“Jon…” she said hesitatingly, her voice no longer light and playful. She had even used his name, which rarely ever happened unless something serious was going on. The room had suddenly gone quiet as they watched the interaction between the couple, all of their faces etched with confusion.

“Ghost, down,” Jon managed to croak out. The dog obeyed and sat on his hind legs obediently beside Ygritte’s feet. Jon dropped to one knee and Sansa and Arya squealed at the sudden realization of what was happening. They were bringing out their phones to record videos and take pictures as Jon undid the collar around Ghost’s neck and slipped off the ring he had placed on it earlier specifically for her to find. When he looked up at Ygritte, he looked as though she may punch him, even though there were unmistakable tears welling up in her eyes that were threatening to spill down her cheeks.

“Yggy, you know I love you—or at least I hope you do,” he began, taking her hand in his. “And I’ve been trying really, _really_ hard to make sure I don’t screw this up, because we have such a wonderful thing going right now. So I figured, the only way to not screw this—us—up, would be to propose because I don’t want to run the risk of losing you. I love waking up to you every morning and I love making you laugh until pop comes out your nose. I love your Batman impressions and how you talk in your sleep. I don’t want to lose any of that. I want all of you _forever._ I want to call you _more_ than just my girlfriend. I want to call you my one-and-only, my soulmate, my better half, my _wife._ Will you _please_ do me the great honor of marrying me and becoming my wife?”

Ygritte was silent for a moment before she suddenly burst into tears that she had been trying so desperately to hold back. She threw her arms around Jon’s neck squeezing him so tightly he thought he might pass out from lack of oxygen.

“ _Yes,_ ya jerk!” she managed through a combination of laughter and tears. “Yes I’ll marry ya.” She pressed her lips to his as he slipped the engagement ring on her finger. “And if ya ever make me cry like that again,” she threatened, “I’ll be forced to hurt ya.”

The Starks erupted into laughter and cheered for the newly engaged couple as Jon stood and pulled Ygritte into such a tight hug her feet left the floor. He spun her around as he closed his eyes and buried his face into her sweet, red hair. She said _yes._ She was going to be his _forever._ She said _yes._

“I’ve been planning this for weeks,” he told her as he stood her back on her feet. “I didn’t tell a single soul. Not even Mum knew.” He shot Cat an apologetic look as she dabbed at her teary eyes. “I was so nervous about doing it and that’s why I tried convincing you to stay home.”

“Oh Pretty Boy,” she laughed. “Why were ya so nervous?”

“I was nervous that you’d say ‘no’ when I asked.”

Ygritte responded with a heavy sigh and shook her head. “ _You_ know _nothing,_ Jon Stark,” she murmured against his lips.

* * *

**_August 2008_ **

Jon thought he might faint. Actually, if it wouldn’t have been for Robb, Theon, and Sam standing there, he probably would have. That, along with the fact that Ygritte would be absolutely _furious_ if she was told that he had passed out literally moments before she was scheduled to walk down that aisle.

“Breathe, Jon. Just breathe,” Robb whispered to him. “It’ll be much easier once you see her. And don’t lock your knees! You really will pass out then.”

Jon would have responded, but he was afraid that he would throw up if he opened his mouth to speak, so he simply nodded and tried to relax. That’s when the wedding march started to play and Jon felt nauseous all over again. As everyone stood to face the back to watch Ygritte enter, Jon closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing.

“Look at her; she’s stunning,” Robb whispered in his ear as Ygritte came into view. Jon opened his eyes and gasped, bringing his hands up to his mouth. He felt like someone had just knocked the wind out of him, but it was in a _good_ way. There were tears stinging at Jon’s eyes and he didn’t even bother wiping them away—Ygritte was stunning, just like Robb had said, and then so much more. He was looking at the most beautiful girl in the world and before he would know it, he’d be calling her his missus.

Ygritte’s hair was pulled back away from her face and done in loose curls that hung down her back. Her gown—very unlike her usual style—was strapless with a heart-shaped neckline, fitted at her waist and flowed down gracefully. The bodice was covered in intricate beading that caught the light and casted off brief glimpses of rainbows when she moved just right and she carried a large bouquet of sunflowers which were her favorite. When she and Tormund reached Jon, he swore he saw a few brief tears spill down the man’s cheek as he went to give Ygritte away.

It was hard for Jon to concentrate on anything being said during the ceremony besides Ygritte who was standing beside him, their fingers interlocking together tightly the entire time. He would have been perfectly content with just looking at her if they would have allowed it. As they exchanged their vows and their rings, Jon wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and kiss her. Once the minister pronounced them “husband and wife” and gave Jon permission to kiss his bride—he did just that. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her to him as he put his other hand behind her head to lean her backward. As she wrapped her arms around his neck, holding onto him tightly, he bent down to connect his lips with hers and kissed her deeply. He could hear his sisters cheering over the others and all of the clapping and he smiled against Ygritte’s lips, taking in as much of the moment as he possibly could.

Once he had her back on her feet and steady, he intertwined their fingers together once again and Ygritte gave his a squeeze, whispering to him. “I _really_ love ya, Pretty Boy.”

“I know you do and I love you too, Pretty Lady. And yes, now that we’re married, I can call you that.”

Ygritte started to laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed writing this chapter, actually! It was a lot of fun to explore how these two would interact in different situations, especially as they grew in their relationship. The name of this chapter obviously comes from Ygritte's favorite nickname for Jon--Pretty Boy. I chose that as the nickname because to me, it's playful and very Ygritte-esque. I made sure to make this one a little longer to make up for the short first chapter. 
> 
> I'm currently working on chapter three and I'm almost done with it-YAY! Still working on a title for it though, so hopefully something will come to me soon! 
> 
> In the mean time, I hope to hear some feedback from you guys and I'd love it if you'd review. Constructive criticism always helps me make my future writing better. And if you like this so far, don't forget to bookmark it to keep up to date! Chapter three to come (hopefully) within the next 24 hours! 
> 
> Happy reading!


	3. Fuckin' Ygritte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Jon on the other hand, wasn’t worried. He was fine. Nothing had changed except for the now empty right side of the bed and lack of lavender and strawberry scented soaps in the bathtub. There were no boots to trip over sitting near the front door anymore, and there were no more stray red hairs littering the bathroom vanity from Ygritte yanking her brush through her tangled hair.
> 
> Fuckin’ Ygritte."

**_ _ **

**_April 2014—Present_ **

_I’m worried about you, Jon. Ever since—_

Jon immediately pulled the phone from his ear and hit “DELETE” beside the voicemail icon. Robb was always worried it seemed; he didn’t need to keep hearing him say it. Jon on the other hand, wasn’t worried. He was fine. Nothing had changed except for the now empty right side of the bed and lack of lavender and strawberry scented soaps in the bathtub. There were no boots to trip over sitting near the front door anymore, and there were no more stray red hairs littering the bathroom vanity from Ygritte yanking her brush through her tangled hair.

_Fuckin’ Ygritte._

He needed a drink and he needed one badly. It was her fault he was drinking so often, but it wasn’t often enough for him to consider it a problem. He and Charlotte were getting along just fine. But _damn_ if he didn’t need a drink.

 

***

 

Charlotte was playing quietly in the living room while Jon poured himself another drink. He stared at his still slightly bruised hand as it rested beside the glass. He gripped the glass with that hand and grimaced—it still hurt a bit. Two weeks ago, Charlotte had went into what was left of Ygritte’s garden—Jon hadn’t kept up with it—and pulled up a handful of flowers. When she came inside, muddy, grinning, and clutching the flowers, Jon had asked her why she had pulled them up.

 _Because I wanna show Mummy!_ She had told him excitedly.

_You can’t show Mummy._

_I can! Take me to go see her, Daddy! Please?_

_Charlotte… we’ve talked about this._

_Daddy, please! I wanna go see Mummy!_ Her blue eyes were swimming with tears at this point, Jon remembered sullenly as he took another swig of his drink. And her bottom lip had started to tremble too.

 _Charlotte, I said_ no _and that’s final._

The little girl had dropped the flowers she had been holding and started to cry. Just thinking about it made Jon upset all over again. He hadn’t handled things well that night.

 _I_ miss _Mummy! I wanna go visit her!_

Jon had taken a step toward her. _Baby, I know you do, but I can’t take you to go see her. Maybe I can take you another day. Now come here._

 _No! I want Mummy! Not you!_ She had turned away and ran as fast as she could from the kitchen and Jon. That was when Jon had slammed his fist into the granite countertop out of anger and frustration.

The doctor at the emergency room that night had told him he was lucky he was leaving with nothing more than a hand sprain, and that he was lucky he didn’t shatter the entire hand. Jon had grumbled and silently took the pain medication prescription and went home.

He had chased two Percocets with a bit of bourbon that night.

_Fuckin’ Ygritte._

 

***

 

Jon put his glass in the sink and flexed his fingers. Charlotte had stopped asking to visit Ygritte ever since then, though there were times she’d start to ask something, hesitate, and then stop altogether. He couldn’t complain that she had stopped asking to go, however. It made him feel more at ease knowing she wasn’t going to bring up the subject. It did not, however, make him feel any better knowing that Charlotte had become rather quiet compared to her usual bubbly self. Children were always so observant and sometimes Jon could have sworn that Charlotte was more observant than most. How could she not be? Especially with everything that had happened in the last few months. The changes had to be just as hard, if not harder on her as they were on him.

_Fuckin’ Ygritte._

It was moments like these that he wished he could just get _over_ everything. He was sick of the restless nights, the dreams that left him awake, unable to fall back asleep. He wanted things to go back to the way they used to be. But _that_ was impossible.

As a last minute decision, Jon picked his glass up out of the sink and poured himself _another_ drink. He knew he shouldn’t drink anymore, not right now at least, but he couldn’t shake the image of Charlotte’s scared little face out of his mind. She came downstairs after hearing Jon yelling “fuck” at the top of his lungs after his fist collided with the counter, and she looked absolutely terrified, her cheeks tearstained and red. Even two weeks later, Jon still wished she had stayed upstairs. She had looked so _afraid._ But of what? Of him? Gods, he hoped not. And yet… children _were_ observant.

The thought made him queasy and the taste for alcohol diminished, so he poured the rest of his drink down the sink without a second thought. As he walked by the living room, Charlotte turned her head to look at him. He paused and silently wondered what she was thinking in that little brain of hers. Was she thinking that her daddy had completely lost his mind? Was she thinking about how much fun he used to be? About how he used to never yell or hit things or get frustrated? Was she thinking about how he used to love her Mummy? How they would always hold hands and kiss each other and play games with her?

_Fuckin’ Ygritte._

He didn’t think he’d ever stop being angry; not fully, anyway. He tried, he really did—but it never worked for long. He just couldn’t let _go._ He’d try harder, he thought. And then Charlotte asked that _dreaded_ question.

“Can I go visit Mummy?”

“Charlotte Lyanna Stark, we’ve had this discussion and I said _no._ ” Jon ran his hand through his hair before going upstairs to his small office. At least he tried to be less angry, right? He failed this time, yes, but he tried. He knew it was wrong to be frustrated with Charlotte; she just wanted to see Ygritte.

 _Ygritte._ The one person that made him want to drink whenever simply hearing her name. _She_ was the one causing all of this. Causing him to be short tempered with his daughter, to drink, to ignore his family. It was all her.

_Fuckin’ Ygritte._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As per usual, thanks for reading. Chapter four coming soon!


	4. 24 Lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a flashback to 2008, Ygritte has some terrifying and exciting news and in 2009, their lives change forever.

**_November 2008_ **

“You’ve _got_ to stop wearing that aftershave. It’s going to make me sick.”

Jon laughed and crossed the kitchen, getting mere inches away from Ygritte’s face and grabbed onto her waist, pulling her to him. She grimaced and placed her hands on his chest and turned her head away, pushing backward as she did so.

“I’m _serious_. I’m going to—,”

—puke; all over Jon’s shoes to be exact. He was too stunned to move even as Ygritte’s dry heaving threatened to bring the rest of her breakfast up. She straightened and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand as tears stung at her eyes.

“Don’t move—I’ll go get the mop,” she grumbled, clutching her stomach. She still felt a little woozy, but she needed to get her mess cleaned up.

“Yggy, I can take care of it. You look miserable.”

“No! Yer not getting that shit all over my floors! I’ll be—.” She never finished her sentence. Instead, she found herself bent over the kitchen sink, the rest of her breakfast coming up with not so much as a warning.

“Yeah, you’re going to go lie down and let me take care of this,” Jon replied over the sound of more dry heaving. He already had his shoes off and was undoing his belt. “These shoes and these jeans are both going in the trash.”

Ygritte managed a weak smile and pulled a glass out of the dishwasher and filled it with water from the tap. “I told ya I didn’t think that chicken from last night was any good.”

“I dunno, maybe; I’m still feeling okay. Go lie down and I’ll clean this up and I’ll call you in sick and then call Thorne to let him know I’m staying home to keep an eye on you.”

“The honeymoon phase is officially over now that yer cleaning up after me getting sick. This is real husband and wife duty.” She walked over to him to give him a kiss on the cheek but hesitated. “Take that damn aftershave off before ya get close to me again. It’s still making me queasy.”

Jon nodded as Ygritte padded out of the kitchen and upstairs to their bedroom. By the time he got the kitchen cleaned up and the garbage taken out, he was already considered late for work. He called Thorne and told him he wouldn’t be in on account of Ygritte being sick and the two of them argued for at least ten minutes about how he couldn’t just call off for his wife being sick. In the end, Jon had been granted permission to take the day off and to use up some of his vacation hours. Once off the phone, Jon made his way upstairs to check on Ygritte who was already passed out in the middle of their bed, the trashcan from their bathroom placed beside her head. He changed as quickly and quietly as possible to avoid waking her and went back downstairs.

This happened two more times that week and four the next. Ygritte had refused to go to the doctor for two reasons. The first reason was that she was fairly certain that she had picked up a virus from one of the people at work. Supposedly the same symptoms plaguing Ygritte were plaguing a girl who she worked with on a regular basis. The second reason was because she had accrued plenty of sick time and could afford to take the time off.

Jon hadn’t been able to stay home with her after the second day of calling off. Alliser Thorne was throwing around threats of putting Jon on unpaid suspension if he didn’t get back to work. After a particularly grueling day at work, he was hoping to come home to a sick wife who wanted nothing more than a possible back rub and to cuddle.

Jon was _sadly_ disappointed when he walked into the house that night. Ygritte was standing in the living room, arms folded, jaw clenched. She had been crying, he could tell, but now she just looked _pissed._

He dropped his keys and phone on the coffee table and studied her carefully. “Yggy, what’s wrong?” His voice was cautious as he took a few more steps toward her.

“I went into work for half the day today. While there, I was told that I was being passed over for that job promotion and raise I had told you about.”

Jon could tell she wanted to say more, so he stayed silent. He knew how hard she had been working to get this promotion, so being told that she had been passed up for it was just as big of a blow to him as it was to her. When Ygritte said no more after a few moments, Jon cleared his throat to break the silence between them.

“I’m sorry, love. Did they say why?”

“Didn’t log enough hours, they said. I’ve been out too much here recently with being sick and hours were part of the requirements to be considered,” she laughed as if it was no big deal, but her laugh was hollow and empty.

“Well… I know you wanted the promotion and the raise would have been nice for the both of us, but it’s alright. We’re doing pretty well for the two of us.”

“ _Three_ of us.”

“What? Ghost doesn’t count,” he joked, trying to lighten the mood just a bit.

“I’m not talking about Ghost. I’m talking about the fact that ya got me pregnant on our honeymoon. And I have all twelve positive pregnancy tests to prove it.”

Standing there, red hair limp and unbrushed, clad in one of Jon’s old t-shirts and boxers, Ygritte picked up a plastic bag from the couch and turned it upside down, to rid it of the contents inside. Small white bits of plastic with purple ends littered the couch.

“Count them for yerself, Pretty Boy. Twenty-four fucking pink lines.”

* * *

**_August 2009_ **

Jon was fairly certain he was never going to be a father. Ygritte was four days past her due date and looked as if she was going to explode if she didn’t have the baby soon. Part of him wanted his daughter to be here, but an even bigger part of him wanted her to never arrive simply because of his nerves. As Ygritte progressed through the pregnancy, the more Jon read up on babies and taking care of them. The more he read, the more concerned and nervous he became.

When they sat down for dinner on the couch that night—it was easier for Ygritte—she announced to Jon that she was informed at her doctor’s appointment earlier that day that if she didn’t go into active labor within the next twenty-four hours, she’d be scheduled to be induced.

“Is… is that _safe_?”

“Of course it’s safe. It’s just to break my water to start the labor process. I don’t want them to do it but—,” she groaned and rubbed the top of her swollen belly before continuing. “—but if they have to, I guess they have to. Now tell yer daughter to keep her feet out of my damn ribcage.”

“She’s just telling you she’s getting too cramped and wants to make her appearance soon is all,” he replied before peppering her belly with soft kisses. 

“I’m more than ready for that to happen. I’m sick of wearing these clothes and not being able to see my feet. And I’m tire of always being tired and always being uncomfortable. And my boobs are _huge._ ”

He looked up at her and mumbled, “I’m not complaining about that last bit….”

She swatted at his face and grumbled, her eyes narrowing at him. “They’re not for ya anymore. Get over it.”

The rest of the evening went along as usual, right down to Jon double and triple checking the hospital bag. Satisfied, Jon crawled into bed next to Ygritte and kissed her furrowed brow.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m just thinking.”

“Try and get some sleep then, Yggy. You look exhausted.” He gave her a quick kiss before quickly falling asleep, one hand resting protectively on her stomach.

At was 5:04 that morning, Ygritte was awake and _pissed._ Charlotte was digging into her ribs with her feet and was putting so much pressure on Ygritte’s lower abdomen she wanted to cry. Getting up was a struggle like it had been for the last few months, but she managed to do so without waking Jon. Maybe, just maybe, if she walked around a bit, Charlotte would move and relive a bit of the pressure.

Ygritte was creeping along to their bedroom door when she stopped and pressed her hand into the small of her back as she felt a sudden pain course through her body, followed by the release of the ever growing pressure.

Oh _shit._

“Jon Stark, ya better wake up right now,” she screeched, smacking the light switch with the palm of her hand to turn on the lights.

She had said _Jon Stark,_ not _Pretty Boy._ That meant it was serious. “Yggy, what’s wrong?” he asked quickly, pushing himself up into a sitting position.

“It… It’s baby time. My water just broke.” 

**…**

 

Jon didn’t remember much after that, just snippets here and there. He remembered Ygritte yelling at him for forgetting the hospital bag as he helped her to the car. He remembered how oddly calm she was the entire way to the hospital, even through the contractions. He remembered how she had started to cry hours into active labor about how much pain she was in, but everything else seemed to be a major blur.

She was finally sleeping peacefully beside him, the epidural doing wonders for her pain and Jon’s sanity. He had just started to doze off when a group of nurses followed by her doctor came into the room. Ygritte was irritated that they had woken her up; she was fourteen hours into labor and hadn’t gotten much sleep. After her exam, the doctor told them it may still be a while and to get comfortable. Ygritte threw an extra pillow at the doctor and Jon quickly apologized.

“Relax Yggy,” he murmured after the doctor had left. He was feeding her ice chips with one hand and smoothing her hair back with the other. “She’ll be here when she’s ready to be here.”

And _boy_ did she take her time.

After a nineteen hour labor, Ygritte finally brought Charlotte Lyanna Stark into the world, kicking and screaming. Jon didn’t know it was possible to love one person as much as he did Charlotte and Ygritte in that very moment and he swore his heart was on the verge of bursting. When they placed Charlotte in his arms for the very first time, he cried and Ygritte had gripped his hand, refusing to let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you for reading and leaving kudos and comments. You're all so wonderful! 
> 
> Expect more with Jon in the upcoming chapters and how he's dealing--That's all I'll say for now! 
> 
> Also, thanks to one of my awesome readers (optimusprime) for asking me to do picsets for the characters--Each chapter will have at least one picset that relates to the chapter. *Note, all picsets belong to me*
> 
> Happy reading!


	5. Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June 2014-Present day.
> 
> Jon takes Charlotte to visit at Robb and Jeyne's where he finally starts to crack, reveals some of what's troubling him, while simultaneously holding back some of the most important information.

**_ _ **

**_June 2014—Present Day_ **

“Charlotte, get your shoes on so we can leave,” Jon leaned against the banister at the foot of the steps and folded his arms loosely across his chest. He could hear Charlotte running down the hallway from her bedroom and she poked her head around the steps and looked down at her father.

“Where are we goin’? To see Mummy?”

It was hard for Jon to not sigh and become increasingly irritated and frustrated, but after a few deep breaths, he was able to keep his voice even and calm. “Not today, Charlotte,” to which he quickly added, “We’re going to Uncle Robb’s and Aunt Jeyne’s today.” He added the last bit as a precaution as he saw his daughter’s smile starting to falter, but at the mere mention of Robb and Jeyne, Charlotte’s first reaction was replaced by one of excitement; it helped her forget about wanting to go see Ygritte… for now at least.

Moments later, Charlotte came down the steps in her slip on sandals with her favorite doll tucked securely under her arm. “I’m ready to go, Daddy,” she called out as she skipped into the living room.

Jon turned off the TV and lights before scooping Charlotte up, taking her to the car where she buckled herself in. The drive to Robb’s was completely silent, save for the kid tunes CD that was emitting softly from the speakers. _God,_ he hated that CD, but a little bit of background noise was better than no noise at all, so he dealt with it, tapping his fingers along the steering wheel in rhythm with the songs.

The pair of them pulled up into Robb and Jeyne’s driveway and Jon shut the car off. Between the time it took him getting out of the car and to Charlotte’s door, she was already unbuckled from her booster seat and was waiting impatiently. As soon as Jon opened the car door, she shimmied her way between him and the seat and jumped down, running immediately for the large white house standing in front of her. She laughed loudly as she ran up onto the porch, seeing Robb standing there, waiting.

“Uncle Robb!” she screeched, jumping into his arms immediately.

“Princess Charlotte! How’s my favorite little niece today?”

“Good! I’s escited to see you,” she said through another fit of giggles as Robb twirled her around in circles. Jon stepped up onto the porch and gave his brother a half smile as Charlotte wrapped her arms around Robb for a second hug, which he halfheartedly returned, a look of concern spreading across his face as he looked at Jon. He put Charlotte back on her feet and ruffled her hair.

“Why don’t you run inside and go find Aunt Jeyne? The last time I checked, she was in the kitchen getting ready to make some cookies; I’m sure she could use some help from the princess.”

“Yeah, I do that!” And like that, Charlotte was darting into the house. Jon made a move to follow his red haired wild child, but Robb took a sideways step, blocking the door from Jon, to which he rolled his eyes and shoved his hands in his pockets; he knew _exactly_ where this was headed.

“You look—,”

“Don’t even say it,” Jon muttered, eyes flickering to the ground.

Robb finished anyway. “Like shit.”

“Thanks man, love you too.”

“Jon, I’m being serious. You look as if you haven’t slept in weeks, not decently anyway. And you look worn down. Are you even eating?”

Jon groaned, not wanting to have this conversation with Robb, but knowing once his brother started in, there would be no shutting him up until they spoke. “Yes, I’m eating,” he muttered as he sat on the porch swing. He leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees and pressed the heel of his palms against his eyes with a grunt.

“Are you going to talk to me or not? I’m worried about you. Seriously.”

“Robb, I’m fine. See?” He sat up and looked at his older brother, giving him the best smile he could manage. It was shit. Jon knew it, and so did Robb.

“That doesn’t really look like the face of someone who is ‘fine.’ What’s really going on? Is it Ygritte?”

Jon clenched his jaw and ground his teeth together. He _really_ didn’t want to be having this discussion, but before he knew it, the words were spilling out and he couldn’t figure out how to stop them.

“Of course it is. It’s always Ygritte. She’s gone. I’m here, Charlotte’s here, and she’s… gone. She left me on my own to raise our daughter. Our beautiful, smart, observant, and funny daughter who resembles Ygritte in everything; resembles her so much that I find myself getting angry with my child because for a split second, all I see is her mother, and it’s not even her fault. I’m angry _all the time,_ and it’s because of Ygritte. It’s _always_ her, Robb. _Always._ I’m _exhausted._ I mean I’m really, truly exhausted. I can’t sleep comfortably; I’m busting my ass at work and at home. Having a five year old daughter with the love for and sense of adventure as strong as Ygritte’s is bloody _exhausting_ , especially when you’re doing everything on your own. Everything used to be so _good,_ so _easy._ And then all of this happened and…”

Jon trailed off and went back to looking at the ground, his boots scraping lightly against the porch as he lightly pushed himself back and forth on the swing. Robb had taken up a spot beside him, his forearms resting on the tops of his thighs as his hands were clasped loosely together at his knees. It took everything Jon had not to scream right then and there. Robb of course, had remained silent the entire conversation, but remained attentive. After a silence that seemed to stretch on for ages, Jon finally spoke again.

“Wanna know the worst part?”

“What’s that?”

“Charlotte keeps asking me to go visit Yggy and I just can’t bring myself to do it. I made her cry a while back because I was being a total arse and yelled at her for asking to go visit her _mother._ I _yelled_ at my innocent and sweet five year old daughter because I can’t handle everything that’s happened and she can; children are resilient, and Charlotte’s living, breathing proof of that. I was tired and frustrated and just _angry_ and I took it out on her. I ended up punching the kitchen counter after that—it won, by the way—and I still have the bruised knuckles to prove it. It looked a lot worse, I can assure you.” He held up his hand for Robb who clapped him on the back before wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

“I know it’s been tough these last few months, but you’ve gotta take some time for yourself and relax. Regroup. Charlotte needs you, Jon; and even when you get upset, she still loves you. You said it yourself—children are resilient. No matter what you do, she’s still going to love you and you’ll always be her father. Get better, if not for yourself, for her.”

“I know that, Robb; it’s just _hard._ You’ve got Jeyne and I’ve got… well, no one.”

“You’ve got us. And Theon and Arya and Sansa. And Mum and Dad. You’ve even got Bran and Rickon and Sam. The point is, you’ve got us all. And if we’re still not enough, maybe you should look into a bit of outside help. We both know you bottle things up until you can’t take it any longer, and that’s not healthy. Just _think_ about it and focus on getting yourself back to where you were.” He gave Jon’s shoulders a small shake before getting up from the swing.

“Robb? Thanks. I’m actually feeling a bit better now that I’ve talked to someone who’s an adult. A five year old isn’t the best choice for holding adult conversations.” He gave a nervous sounding laugh and sighed. He meant what he said about feeling better—he always did when he finally broke down and just _talked_ to someone. He felt more in control now than he had in a long time.

Giving his brother a smile, Robb stuck out his hand for Jon to take and pulled him up off the swing. “You know I’m always here to listen. Always have been and I always will be; remember that. Now let’s go see what kind of trouble your daughter and my wife have managed to get into with the boys.”

Sheepishly, Jon followed Robb into the house, immediately being greeted by the smell of baking cookies and his two nephews who were two and three years older than Charlotte. Both boys wrapped their arms around Jon excitedly and begged for piggyback rides, which he happily obliged to. _I can do this,_ he thought as he crouched down to let the boys climb onto his back. _I can do this and be happy and be a good father to Charlotte. I just need to listen to what Robb said. I’ve got this._

The rest of the afternoon went relatively smooth, though Jon wouldn’t have objected to a drink if Robb would have offered. But he knew better—he had to drive home later. He also hadn’t brought up the drinking with Robb either; why he left that bit out, he wasn’t entirely sure, he just didn’t feel that divulging that particular piece of information was relevant to the conversation.

Besides, it wasn’t a problem. He had it under control.

But if it wasn’t a problem, why did Jon find himself in the kitchen pouring himself a drink immediately after carrying a sleeping Charlotte into the house and putting her down on the couch for a bit of a nap? He _really_ needed this one though. For two reasons. The first reason was because the conversation he had with Robb earlier that day had started to weigh down on him. The second reason was that on the way home, Charlotte was asleep, so Jon turned off that horrible CD and was left alone with his thoughts. Not his smartest decision, he decided as he pulled into the driveway. He couldn’t stop thinking about Ygritte the entire way home, even after he turned the CD back on in an attempt to pull his mind away. Ygritte always made him want to drink; not that he’d ever openly admit that to anyone.

He just needed something to take the edge off that was all. He had the perfect thing to do that too, and it was hiding up in the locked liquor cabinet—an addition created by Ygritte during her baby-proofing and nesting stage shortly before Charlotte had been born. Gods, did everything have to remind him of her? He was beginning to think he was being punished for something. Better make it two drinks to be safe. One to take off the edge and the second to cause him to _really_ relax. Robb had told him that he needed to relax, right? Right. _Relax._

And even after he gotten himself relaxed, he found himself clenching his jaw in frustration once again later that night. He had put Charlotte to bed after giving her a bath that evening and started cleaning out desk drawers in his office, hoping the daunting and repetitive action would help make him fall asleep. That was how he stumbled upon his wedding band, cozily tucked away in its original box. He had completely forgotten that he had taken it off and shoved it away somewhere he had hoped to never see again. Looked like he didn’t try hard enough to conceal it away.

The unplanned discovery of his wedding band led him back into the kitchen and before he knew it, he found himself in front of the liquor cabinet and was unlocking it again for the second time that evening. He had brought the ring, still in its box, downstairs with him for a reason even he didn’t understand. He pulled down the bottle he was seeking out and silently toasted his wedding band. He didn’t even bother with a glass.

That was the first night that Jon Stark took a bottle of bourbon to bed with him.


	6. Drowning on Dry Land Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Things were supposed to be getting better for Jon and Charlotte. They were trying to regain a bit of normalcy in their lives. So far, things seemed to be working, kind of."

**_Part 1: J_** **_uly 2014—Present Day_ **

Things were supposed to be getting better for Jon and Charlotte. They were trying to regain a bit of normalcy in their lives. So far, things seemed to be working, _kind of._

Bullshit. They were sinking and sinking fast.

Jon couldn’t keep it together anymore. He was being held together by threads, all of them dangerously frayed and moments away from snapping. Some days were better than others, however. Jon considered those days to be successes and the worse days as failures.

Today was a failure. A complete and total train wreck and it was only 1:15 in the afternoon.

Charlotte was off doing something in the house; where she was, or what she was doing, Jon had no idea. She could be getting into household cleaners for all he knew. No, she couldn’t be.

 _Ygritte baby-proofed the entire house, even the bathroom and kitchen cabinets, remember?_ He thought silently.

 _Ygritte._ That means a drink.

And that’s exactly what he did. The words “Ygritte,” “alcohol,” and “drink” were all synonymous with each other in Jon’s mind. Every time Ygritte managed to claw her way back into his thoughts, he’d drink enough to numb him down a bit and blur his mind. He liked it when he couldn’t think—couldn’t feel. Today was a day where no matter what he did, he couldn’t bring himself to think of something other than Ygritte. Maybe the alcohol was losing its effect. No, that couldn’t be it. Jon _needed_ that to escape Ygritte… even if the method was starting to fail seventy percent of the time. He needed it to keep working. It _had_ to.

Jon was sitting at the dining room table—a place he and Charlotte hadn’t sat at in weeks—with his head down on his arms. A half empty bottle of bourbon and an empty glass sat in front of him, waiting to be put to their designated uses. But Jon wasn’t paying the glass or alcohol any attention. He had fallen asleep.

That was when his cellphone started ringing. With a jolt, Jon sat up, accidentally knocking over the glass in the process—thank god he had drained it before passing out. Jon pulled his phone from his pocket and looked at it. A blank expression crossed his face and he tossed the phone carelessly onto the table, watching it skid across the wooden surface, only to come to a halt only mere inches from the edge.

He needed help; things were getting worse and the drinking was a major contributing factor.

 _No,_ he thought. He was fine; everything was under the control… except it wasn’t. He had resorted to taking quick naps throughout the day, just long enough to rest up a bit before he’d start dreaming—that’s when things normally went from bad to worse. He couldn’t sleep and dream without having horrible nightmares of Ygritte and—

—The bloody phone was ringing. _Again._

The first call had been from Robb. Jon leaned across the table with a grunt and snatched up his phone and let out a groan; this time, however, was Catelyn. He had to answer this one. It was easy enough to ignore his brother, but not his _mum._

“’Ello?” he mumbled, trying to conceal the fact that he had already had three—or was it four?—drinks.

“Jon? It’s Mum. Robb and I have been trying to reach you for the past hour. This is the third Sunday lunch you and Charlotte have missed. Honey, is everything alright?”

 _Sunday?_ Oh shit. Jon rubbed tiredly at his red and watery eyes with his free hand as he wracked his brain, trying to think back on the last few days. Pieces of his days were fuzzy or completely missing and that was never a good sign. He fought off the urge to groan into the phone as he heard Catelyn’s voice; it sounded strained and full of worry.

“Jon? Sweetheart, did you hear me?”

“Yeah, Mum, I heard you. I was just thinking about things.” He took a deep breath and tried focusing again. His words were starting to slur together and he was tired. He needed to sleep and sleep _badly._ “I’m fine, Mum. I’ve just been busy. Sorry for not being around much.” He stumbled over a few words that time; Catelyn would most certainly know he had been drinking by this point.

“Jon, I’m worried about you.”

There it was—the “I’m worried” bit that he had been hearing from Robb for weeks now. It was also one of the reasons why he had started letting his phone die and then refusing to put it on the charger.

“Now you sound like Robb,” he grumbled, pouring himself another drink. “I’m fine, Charlotte’s fine. Everything is _fine._ ”

“When was the last time you went to see Ygritte?”

Jon stopped, his drink hovering inches from his lips. For the first time in days, he put the glass back down onto the table, untouched. Cat _knew_ he hated discussing Ygritte, yet she kept bringing it up as if it would somehow manage to change everything that had had happened or bring Jon out of whatever type of depression he was in. It didn’t work; it only made things worse and caused more tension between Jon and his family.

“January. End of discussion.”

“ _January?_ You mean to tell me you’ve kept Charlotte away since _January?!”_

Jon balled his hand into a fist and tried not to lash out at his mother on the other end of the line. “Mum, I told you, the last time we saw her was in January. That’s what you wanted to know. End of _discussion,_ ” he repeated a bit harsher than the first time. It was becoming more and more difficult for him to say Ygritte’s name out loud; he really just wanted the conversation to end.

“Charlotte deserves to see her mother, Jon.”

“Seven Hells, Mum. Drop it already. She’s my daughter and I’ve said no.”

“Jon! That was a difficult time for all of us! When Ygritte—.”

“Mum! I’m well aware of how difficult that was! I said drop it.” He was angry now, and Cat wouldn’t stop pushing the issue. If she didn’t stop, Jon felt as if he might snap.

“I just don’t underst—,”

“Goodbye, Mum,” he grumbled darkly, hanging the phone up with a scowl.

He dropped his phone back onto the table and contemplated the untouched glass of bourbon sitting in front of him. He wanted it, he decided. Unfurling his fist, Jon reached out and grabbed the glass and brought it to his lips, draining the contents in three large gulps. As soon as it was empty, he slammed it back onto the table with a grunt and grabbed the bottle of bourbon to refill the glass, which he drained just as fast as the one before it. His head had started swimming—a good sign, he thought—so he stoppered the bottle and stood.

Correction: attempted to stand.

The room had started to spin as the alcohol hit him and clumsily fell back into his chair. This wasn’t good, he realized. Charlotte would eventually need him, and he couldn’t even stand. He furiously rubbed at his eyes with his hands as he tried to thing.

_Robb._

Robb would come and get her. He just needed to act sick and be convincing enough to make his brother believe that he needed someone to take Charlotte for the day. He could do it, he just needed to focus and make a convincing phone call.

Things went a lot easier than Jon originally thought they would. Robb wasn’t hard to convince at all. Jon attributed part of this to the fact that while he was on the phone with his brother, Robb was preoccupied with the fist fight that had broken out between his two boys. When Robb arrived to pick up Charlotte, Jon had done his best to look sick rather than drunk, something he thought he pulled off rather well for the most part.

“Thanks for keeping her,” Jon murmured, feigning a cough behind his hand.

“Of course. Get some rest and sleep it off; you’ll get her in the morning?”

Jon nodded and sniffled. “Around nine?”

“That should work, Jon. Get some rest, alright?”

“I will. Thanks again, Robb.”

Charlotte pecked Jon on the cheek before he handed her over to Robb. He told her to be good and that he’d see her in the morning before shutting the front door. When he heard Robb backing out of the driveway, Jon went back into the dining room and took the bottle of bourbon off the table, carrying it into the living room.

The next thing Jon remembered was waking up at 8:00 that night on the living room couch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was part 1 of 2. Chapter 7 will be a continuation of chapter 6. Also, I apologize for no picset for this chapter; I wanted to hurry and get this chapter posted so I can finish up on chapter 7 and get to work on chapter 8. It's been a very busy week for me, so I haven't had much time to write like I normally do. Once I get the time, I'll create a picset and get it uploaded. (This will probably be after I post chapter 7, maybe even chapter 8, just depending.)
> 
> Thanks for all of your wonderful feedback. 
> 
> Happy reading!


	7. Drowning on Dry Land Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A direct continuation of Chapter 6, focusing solely on Jon.

**_Part 2: July 2014—Present Day_ **

Jon was shaking as he sat up on the couch, his shirt drenched in sweat and clinging to his body. He looked around and spotted the empty bottle of bourbon casted away a few feet from the couch.

He was thirsty and the room was spinning at a sickeningly fast rate; he didn’t trust himself to stand at that moment either. With a groan, Jon leaned forward and rested his forehead in the palm of his hand and squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to regain some composure.

Bad idea.

Jon had awoken due to the dream he had experienced and when he closed his eyes, shutting out reality for a few moments, the dream came flooding back, vivid as ever and that was the _exact_ opposite of what he wanted to happen. He sat up quickly and blinked, but each time he did, a flashbulb memory came to him—flashbulb memories that he didn’t want to see or remember. He gripped the arm of the couch for support and propelled himself up onto his feet, wavering only slightly. He staggered forward a few feet that mimicked steps and forced his way into the kitchen. He just needed a drink—not a lot—just enough to make him forget that horrible dream.

As he drunkenly fumbled with the key for the liquor cabinet, he swore. “Damn it, Ygritte. You just had to baby-proof everything in this damn house, didn’t you?”

It took his brain a few moments to comprehend what he had said out loud and he swallowed. His mouth had gone even drier, something he thought impossible, and he found that he was struggling to say anything more. Ygritte’s name was foreign on his tongue and left a bitter taste in his mouth. He dropped the key to the liquor cabinet on the counter top and put his hands, palms down, on either side of the sink, hunching over it.

He needed to say her name again. Out loud. He needed this and he knew it.

“Ygritte,” he murmured. “Ygritte, Ygritte, Ygritte.”

He felt his chest constrict a little tighter each time he whispered her name and he winced. He tried to regain a steady breathing pattern, but it was proving to be a bigger struggle than what he had anticipated. It was becoming harder for him to breathe and with each hyperventilating gasp for air, images and memories that he had buried away came back in a rush. He felt as if someone had knocked the wind out of him, followed almost immediately by a horrible wave of nausea. Without any warning, Jon was doubled over, emptying his stomach into the sink.

“I can’t do this, I can’t do this, I can’t do this,: he whispered to the empty house after he had rinsed his mouth out.

He snatched the key to the liquor cabinet of the counter top and attempted to unlock it once again. His hands were shaking so badly, however, that he couldn’t get the key to fit into the lock. He cursed again and threw the key across the kitchen in frustration and took a kitchen towel out of the drawer. He hastily wrapped his hand in the towel and thrust his fist through the glass front of the cabinet, while simultaneously throwing his other arm in front of his face to serve as protection from the glass. He pulled his hand back, carelessly knocking more glass onto the counter top.

“A whole lot of good that lock did, huh, Ygritte?” He grabbed the last bottle of bourbon from the shelf and looked at it as he lost himself in thought.

All of this was _her_ fault; the drinking, the nightmares and inability to sleep, the growing distance between himself and his family, the constant frustration and anger and irritation—all of it. It was Ygritte’s fault. The more he thought about it, the worse things became. Normally the alcohol would dull his sense enough that Jon could get through without too many problems or flashbacks. Tonight, however, only seemed to get worse with the more alcohol he ingested.

There was no way for Jon to escape the memories of Ygritte. He took a drink out of the newly opened bottle and winced as it went down and even through the burning sensation it left behind, Jon could still picture Ygritte’s face and hear her voice as clear as if she was standing right beside him.

...

_I think once Charlotte gets a little older, we should try for another one. A boy this time. What d’ya think of that? She needs a brother, wouldn’t ya say?_

_..._

“Fucking stop,” he whispered, shaking his head as if it would keep her voice from invading his thoughts again.

...

_So Pretty Boy, when do I get ta meet yer family, hm?_

_Ya know somethin’? I just really love ya._

_Jon! Pretty Boy! Get the camera! I think Charlotte’s gonna take her first steps!_

_I wouldn’t trade ya for anyone or anythin’, Jon Stark. Yer mine forever. Ya hear me? Forever._

_..._

“Stop, just stop,” he pleaded, his fingers curling into fists as he buried his hands in his hair. “Stop, stop, stop!”

Jon paused after a moment and looked up, his vision blurring over from the tears that were gathering in his eyes. His throat felt hoarse from all of the yelling he had done, but Ygritte’s voice seemed to leave as quickly as it had come—a good sign. He dropped his hands and let his arms dangle loosely at his sides as he rapidly blinked away the tears.

“You’re fine; pull it together, Jon. You’ve moved on. Ygritte is nothing but history now, just a memory. Pull it together,” he kept telling himself.

After a few deep breaths and whispered mantras of “pull it together,” Jon struggled toward the steps. He needed to sleep; he knew that part of his problem was a lack of sleep, but if he slept, he’d most certainly be haunted by…

“…Ygritte.” It came out hoarsely as more buried memories came flooding back. But this time, he couldn’t get them to stop.

_..._

_Jon…_

_Don’t call me ‘Jon;’ that means things are serious._

_This is serious. Jon, listen to me._

_Stop it, Ygritte. No. We aren’t going to have this discussion. Not here and not now. Not ever. You_ promised _me._

_We have to Jon. You know it’s coming, whether you want to believe it or not. Now listen,_ please. _Please just listen to me._

...

“No, gods, please no.”

He wasn’t aware of how he managed, but he had somehow gotten himself upstairs and into the master bathroom. He winced at the harsh white light upon turning on the switch and felt his stomach drop when he looked at himself in the mirror; he almost didn’t recognize the man looking back at him.

He looked like shit, and that was putting it mildly. He had stopped eating regularly and the way his clothes hung on him showed it. His hair was unbrushed, his face unshaven for days. His eyes looked just as dull and empty as he felt on the inside.

“There’s nothing left. Ygritte—my Ygritte—left. She’s gone; when she left , she took a piece of me with her,” he whispered to his gaunt reflection as he sat the bottle of bourbon on the sink counter.

He wasn’t the person he used to be; he was an empty shell, a twisted version of the once happy individual he used to be. The Jon Stark he used to be existed now only in memories.

“She did this to me.”

Jon fumbled around in the drawers until he found what he was looking for. He raised the bottle of Percocets left from his hand incident to his eyes and inspected them. He thought that they would have made him happy; that he would have felt a bit of relief. In another part of his life, he might have even laughed at the situation, but now his ability to laugh was gone.

It was gone just like everything else Ygritte had grabbed and taken away from him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The further along I get in this story, the harder I find it to write. Hopefully my emotional investment isn't screwing with the story too badly. Thank you for all of the lovely comments, kudos, and reviews. You all are so wonderful!
> 
> Happy reading!


	8. Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Rob didn’t usually worry too much about his brother, but even Robb knew Jon hadn’t really been himself lately. When Jon’s phone went to voicemail for the eleventh time, he knew something wasn’t right."

**_July 2014—Present Day_ **

Something was wrong. So very, _very_ wrong. Rob didn’t usually worry too much about his brother, but even Robb knew Jon hadn’t really been himself lately. When Jon’s phone went to voicemail for the eleventh time, he knew something wasn’t right.

“Jeyne? I’m going over there. Something doesn’t feel right about all of this. I’ve left him half-a-dozen voicemails saying that Charlotte was running a temperature and throwing up, and I still haven’t heard anything back from him. That’s not like Jon at all. I even sent him a few texts and I haven’t gotten any responses.”

Jeyne looked at her husband and reached up to cup his face gently, stroking his cheek with her thumb. She could tell that he was stressed and worried, just by the sound of his voice and the way he carried himself.

“Robb, it’s late. It’s already after 10. Are you sure he’s just not sleeping?”

“Jon doesn’t usually go to bed this early, and from what I can tell, he’s not sleeping like he should be. I don’t know what’s going on, but I _need_ to go over there.”

Jeyne sighed and nodded understandingly. “Go on—I’ll be perfectly fine. Both of the boys are sleeping and Charlotte is on the couch and is sleeping for now. Just call me when you find out what’s going on.”

He bent down to give his wife a quick kiss and touched his forehead to hers. “I’ll be back soon; I’m sure it’s nothing serious, but I need to make sure. I love you.”

“I love you too. We’re all worried about him, you know. Make sure you tell him that. Now get going.”

Robb gave Jeyne one more kiss before leaving to go to Jon’s. The longer he was in the car, the worse the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach got, so he pushed down on the accelerator and sped the rest of the way to Jon’s.

He arrived within minutes and immediately ran up to the front door, knocking hard and loud enough that Jon should have been able to hear him, no matter where he was in the house. When there was no answer and no sound of someone making their way to the door, Robb found the spare key Ygritte had always kept hidden under one of the flower pots near the door and went inside. He fumbled around for the light switch as soon as he got into the house; there were no lights on whatsoever, and he managed to trip over one of Charlotte’s toys, letting out a yelp of pain. If anything should have alerted Jon to Robb's presence, it would have been that. And yet, there was still no answer from his brother. Maybe he  _was_ sleeping, just as Jeyne had suggested. The more Robb thought about that, the more determined he became that there was something else going on. What that something was, however, still remained a mystery. 

Finding the panel of light switches, Robb flipped a few of them, turning the hall light on, along with the light above the stairs and the porch light. He blinked at the sudden brightness and called out, “Jon? I saw your car in the driveway, so I know you’re home. I’ve been trying to reach you; Charlotte’s sick,” he said, walking through the lower level of the house. He glanced into the living room just as a precaution and spied the empty bottle on the floor, so he called out again, “Is everything alright?”

When there was no answer a second time, he hurried into the kitchen where he discovered the mess of broken glass scattered all over the counter top and floor. Worried that Jon may have cut himself pretty badly, Robb went to the steps and took them two at a time, pulling his phone from his pocket as he did so. He immediately went into Jon’s bedroom and saw nothing but a small sliver of light coming from the cracked bathroom door.

Robb went over to the door and nudged it open with his foot. “Jon, it’s Robb. Are you—?”

He stopped speaking when he saw that Jon was indeed, not okay. He was propped up against the bathtub, his head hanging down with his chin resting on his chest. Robb dropped to his knees beside his brother and attempted to shake him awake, but Jon’s head only rolled limply to the side before falling back into place.

Robb had already called for an ambulance while he searched for a pulse. He was on the phone with the dispatcher, giving the woman all of the information he could, when he discovered a slow, faint, and erratic pulse; it wasn’t much, but it was something. He relaxed just a fraction of an inch as he told the woman he had discovered a faint pulse, but that was also when his blood ran cold. He was glancing around the bathroom, looking for anything to point him in the direction of what happened when he saw the empty pill bottle lying on its side next to the half empty bottle of bourbon on the sink counter. Robb had almost dropped the phone in a mixture of horror and confusion as a wave of nausea threatened to knock him over. In a frantic attempt to get the dispatcher’s attention and send an ambulance—which she had said was already on its way—Robb yelled into the receiver.

“You’ve got to send someone and tell them to hurry! My brother has a little girl and...." Robb was starting to ramble. The dispatcher on the other line tried calming him.

"Sir, I've got EMS out heading your way right now. They'll be there soon," the woman replied.

"No... No, he needs help _now._ I think he may have purposely swallowed—,”

Those were the last words out of Robb Stark’s mouth before Jon Stark stopped breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a rather short chapter! (Only 992 words) Hopefully I conveyed what I needed/wanted to in those short words. Thank you so much for your feedback, reviews, and kudos. More of the story to come soon, I promise!
> 
> Happy reading!


	9. The Unknown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Robb dropped his gaze and closed his eyes, squeezing Jeyne’s hand as tightly as he could, wishing so badly that he’d wake up and everything would turn out to be a horrible nightmare."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALRIGHT. I cannot believe I'm actually writing this, but here it goes. When I first came up with this idea, I outlined it to be roughly 13 chapters. It's looking like it'll be closer to 15 or 16 now.
> 
> In my original outline this chapter that I'm posting right now wasn't even supposed to be written. However, as I went back through what I had written that was supposed to be chapter nine, I decided I hated it. Well, not all of it, but parts. The chapter took itself in a direction I didn't like, and therefore, I'm doing a major rewrite of that entire chapter. So in about 15 minutes or so, I wrote this short little FLUFF chapter (ugh, I can't believe I'm admitting that) to hold you guys over until I get this rewrite finished, polished, and posted. And because I feel horrible for adding in a fluff chapter and making you guys wait to find out more, I'll be posting the next two chapters (10 and 11) simultaneously as a thank you for being so awesome, patient, and understanding. And I promise chapter 10 will be longer than 800 or so words like this one is. (:
> 
> Without further ado, Chapter Nine: The Unknown... a fluff chapter.
> 
> Happy reading!

**_July 2014—Present Day_ **

When the entire Stark family was together, especially all crowded together in one room, it was extremely rare for there to be any silence. Today was one of those rare occasions. Everyone sat in silence, hands either folded neatly in their laps or clutching the hand of the person next to them. Even with the Stark family friends joining them, there was still nothing but silence. Tensions were high and the longer the silence stretched on, the thicker it became.

Everyone was there. Sansa and Arya had both left as soon as they had gotten the phone call, not even bothering to change back into their clothes from earlier that day; Sansa’s hair was still damp and unbrushed from just getting out of the shower and Arya had worn her slippers. Sam had hurried into the hospital, breathing heavily as he ran up the steps to the fourth floor. He had said that the elevators would have taken too long. Theon had arrived shortly after Sam, pale faced and oddly quiet. And still, no one wished to speak; it was easier that way.

Robb was sitting beside his mother, her hand encased tightly within his. They had been sitting like that for the past hour, neither one of them wanting to let go. Cat’s eyes were swollen and were rimmed with red, Robb’s blank and unreadable. He was staring at his shoes as if they were the most amazing things in the world, his hand still clutching his mother’s.

“Robb…” It was Jeyne’s soft voice that pulled Robb out of his thoughts and shattered the silence around all of them. He looked up at his wife as if he was sure she was going to disappear right before his eyes. When she said his name again, Robb squeezed Catelyn’s hand before dropping it and bringing himself to his feet. He would have taken a step toward her, but his legs had turned to lead as he looked at her miserably. Understanding silently what he needed, Jeyne closed the distance between them and pulled him into her embrace. He looked so broken, she thought as she wrapped her arms around him protectively. Robb had buried his face in the crook of her neck as she brought a hand up to stroke his hair soothingly.

“I got here as soon as I could,” she told him softly. “I took the boys and Charlotte to my Mum and Dad’s, so they’re taken care of.”

Robb nodded his head once as a form of communication before unravelling himself from around her and collapsing back into his previously vacated chair. He reached out for Cat’s hand without looking and their hands instantly gripped onto each other while his free hand sought out one of Jeyne’s. She took his hand in her own and she too sat down, the silence returning just as quickly as it had left.

To Catelyn, time seemed to be moving in slow motion; it had felt like hours since they had received any news, and she was becoming agitated the longer she sat around not _knowing_ anything. She had checked and rechecked with the nurses on the floor for any new information regarding Jon and each time she checked, she came back with nothing more than what she had received upon arriving at the hospital.

To Catelyn’s relief, as well as everyone else’s, the emergency room doctor who had been assigned to Jon’s case upon arrival stepped into the small waiting room, requesting that he be able to talk to Ned and Catelyn in private. Robb and the others watched as the pair stood up and slowly made their way out of the room and into the hallway behind the doctor.

Robb was still clutching Jeyne’s hand tightly as they watched the conversation unfold out in the hallway. The words exchanged between the doctor and Ned and Catelyn couldn’t be heard through the glass windows, but the expression that Cat wore seemed to promise nothing more than bad news. Robb tried reading their lips but came up with nothing each time he made the attempt. Tired and defeated, Robb laid his head on Jeyne’s shoulder as she rhythmically rubbed her thumb across the top of his hand. When he glanced up at his parents in the hallway, he watched in silent horror as Catelyn brought her hand to her mouth and closed her eyes before bursting out into sobs as she leaned heavily against Ned. Robb dropped his gaze and closed his eyes, squeezing Jeyne’s hand as tightly as he could, wishing so badly that he’d wake up and everything would turn out to be a horrible nightmare.


	10. Struggle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He needed them to realize that. Why was no one trying to help him? He needed help, damn it. Help."

**_July 2014—Present Day, 8 days post-accident_ **

Like the days before, the room was relatively quiet. The only distinctive noises were the ones coming from the rhythmic beeping and whirring noises being emitted by the various machines in the room. The occasional shuffle of a handbag or scrape of a chair across the cold, tile floor could be heard, and even broken, yet muffled, bits of conversations. But even that wasn't very much and there was no way to communicate back.

That’s all Jon wanted; he wanted to be able to hear clearly and to open his eyes. He wanted to be able to see his family and hold them and talk to them. He just wanted to be able to _communicate_ with them. He hated how loud the machines were in his ears but how hard it was for him to hear anyone talk. He was still trying to internalize what had happened and why he couldn't hear or see the people around him. He _needed_ answers. He needed to know what happened and that everyone was safe. And Charlotte. Where was she, how was she doing, who was she with? If he could just open his eyes…

Wait. Voices. _Distinguishable_ voices that sounded a lot like Arya and Sansa… and maybe Sam as well? No, definitely Sam; he’d know that nervous laughter anywhere. He could hear a chair being scraped across the tiled floor again like he had heard so many times and the next thing he knew, his hand was being held by someone.

He’d know those hands anywhere, he realized. Catelyn’s. Those were the hands that had held him, rocked him to sleep, dried his tears, and bandaged up cuts and bruises. Those were the hands that he used to clutch onto when he was scared or nervous, or when he needed to cross the street. It was Catelyn; she was there, holding his hand tightly as if she would never let go. He vaguely remembered something similar to this happening earlier, but his brain was too fuzzy to remember it clearly. 

There were more distinguished voices and Jon was starting to make out some of the words in the conversation. The tone was hurried and hushed and if he could have, he would have furrowed his brows in confusion as to what was so _secretive._

“… I don’t know… they… days now….”

“Answers would… can’t they see that this….”

“Blaming… help matters… worse… need to stay positive.”

“… should have… I was….”

_Robb?_ Was that really him? It certainly _sounded_ like his older brother. He wanted to scream at them, make them look and see that he was right there and that they could talk to him. Why was it so difficult to try and do anything?

“You can’t… Robb… did the best….”

Someone had said Robb. That meant Robb was there. If only he could get his attention, _anyone’s_ attention for that matter… He tried to squeeze Catelyn’s hand back, but failed. He couldn't even make his finger twitch. And his eye lids were _so_ heavy; it was surreal. He just wanted to open his eyes and see everyone and to figure out what was going on. No one seemed to be overly concerned at the fact that Jon hadn't moved or spoken or even opened his eyes.

_Don’t they know I’m here, listening, waiting,_ trying _to get their attention?_ He wondered.

He’d have to keep trying then, he supposed. He could do that. He kept fighting, trying to communicate one way or another, but each attempt failed, and before he knew it, he was slipping away. The voices were growing fainter, the will to try and open his eyes diminishing. _Sleep._ He didn't _want_ to sleep. He wanted to be awake—fully awake—and open his eyes. Why couldn't he just open his eyes?

* * *

**_July 2014—Present Day, 9 days post-accident._ **

Jon still couldn't see or talk or hear fully. He just wanted someone to turn off those bloody machines and shut off all the _noise._ And he was cold. If he could have shivered, he would have—at least that’s what he assumed. It wasn't long after he had started feeling cold that he felt the weight of a warm blanket being placed down upon him. _Much_ better. Now if only he could open his eyes.

What _was_ that obnoxious whirring and beeping noise? A machine of some sort, no doubt, but what kind? And why did it never shut itself off? It had seemed like years since Jon had actually seen his family, so whenever he caught broken pieces of conversations, he held onto them tightly, using their voices as an end goal; he _would_ open his eyes and see them again. He _would._

“… bring Charlotte?”

“… good idea… help with… out of this?”

“It wouldn't… I mean… scary, but….”

“… you think it’ll….”

“… I do… bring her….”

_Charlotte?_ Did they mean to bring in Charlotte to wherever they were? If that was the case, Charlotte hadn’t been there with them. But if she wasn't with Robb or his mum or his sisters, or even Sam, where had she been?

Jon tried even harder to open his eyes, to raise a finger, to wiggle his toes under the blankets, _anything_ to get them to realize he was listening and paying attention. He needed them to realize that. Why was no one trying to help him? He needed help, damn it. _Help._

* * *

**_July 2014—Present Day, 10 days post-accident_ **

At least the whirring noises had stopped. The beeping was still there, but the whirring was gone. He didn't remember much from earlier, but something was different, that was for sure. He wondered if anyone noticed. He was in the middle of trying to force his eyes open again when he suddenly gave up on his endeavors.

Charlotte was there. He knew it the instant that she came into the room. He heard her laughing which was suddenly cut short by a gasp of shock… or was it surprise?

“Daddy?”

The voice was unmistakable; it was definitely Charlotte. But she didn't sound like herself. Instead of her usual curious and excited voice, the word “Daddy” was strained, painful, confused, scared. All of the things little five year old girls’ voices shouldn't be filled with. He wanted to reach out, take her into his arms and tell her everything would be okay. Of course he couldn't do any of that, but he’d sure as hell try.

Voices were becoming clearer now, he noticed, and it was easier for him to understand larger snippets of conversations—a good sign, he hoped.

“It’s okay, Charlotte….” That was Robb’s voice, no doubt. He was being calm with Charlotte and spoke softly to her. “Do you… hold his hand? I bet he’d like that.”

_Yes, yes. Bring her here; let me squeeze her hand to let her know everything would be alright. Bring her over here, Robb. Come on._

Charlotte didn't speak, but must have indicated that it would be okay, because the next thing Jon knew, his daughter was being placed snugly beside his leg and her two little hands were covering the top of his.

“Hi, Daddy,” she whispered.

_Hi, princess. Daddy’s missed you._ What he would do to actually be able to articulate his thoughts to his daughter…

He wasn't sure how long she sat there, her little hands covering his own, but he figured a decent amount of time had passed; he could feel Charlotte’s head propped against his stomach and her hands had slackened and fallen off his own. She must be sleeping.

He tried to reach up and stroke her hair, but was met with another failure and a dull ache in his arm. _That_ was new. Another good sign, he hoped; anything new couldn't be a _bad_ thing, could it?

Someone had attempted to pick Charlotte up without waking her up, he guessed, and when they did, she woke up and started screaming.

“No! I stay, I stay, I _stay_!”

Jon wanted to reach out and take her back, assuring her that she could, but he couldn't. Actually, he couldn't do anything. His chest felt tight and felt as if he was being choked, but couldn't do anything about it. What was that _noise?_ It was so strange, so foreign so…

“Sansa! Hit the call button _now_!”

…so odd. Then he realized, it was him; he was the one making the noise. There was something in his throat and he was choking, but he couldn't get it out. Nothing was making any sense; everything seemed chaotic and all over the place. There were more voices, using words that didn't make any sense to him whatsoever, and before he knew it, he could feel himself lying flat on his back and a strange voice in his ear.

“ _Relax._ You’re fine, you’re fine. Don’t fight against it.”

_What?_ Was this woman completely stupid? He couldn't _breathe._ But it was suddenly like she had spoken some magical words and he could breathe again. Seven Hells his throat burned. He wanted water, ice, _anything_ to help soothe the burning sensation that was making its way down his throat. Even breathing made it hurt.

“Push another dose of sedatives; it should help.” It was the strange woman talking again. But _sedatives?_ No, he didn't want to be sedated. He wanted to be awake and see his family and talk to them. He wanted Charlotte; he could hear her crying and Robb trying to calm her down. _He_ should be the one doing that, not Robb. But why was she crying?

“That should keep him relaxed for the next few hours or so. Call if you need anything,” the woman said.

_No. I don’t need this… I need to be with Charlotte. What’s going on?_

“Shh, Charlotte, it’s alright,” he heard Robb say. “It’s okay, your Daddy is doing just fine. His doctors are taking really good care of him and I bet he’ll wake up to see you soon. He just needs to sleep for a little bit longer, okay?”

Doctors? That meant something happened. Jon tried thinking back to what could have happened that would require him to be in the hospital. He was fighting against the fuzzy feeling that was running through his body, threatening to make him sleep, something he didn't want to do.

_What happened? The last thing I remember was…_

It didn't matter. Jon wasn't able to fight off the overwhelming feeling of sleep any longer. The last thing he thought of before finally succumbing to the sedation was the one thing he had tried to forget about for months.

_Ygritte._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo! This was a spontaneous chapter that I decided to write to get myself back into the grove of writing this story (I was having a difficult time with the rewriting of my original chapter 9) and this was the result! I really liked the end results, so I decided to post it and include it in the story. 
> 
> Hope you like it, and happy reading! (:
> 
> Ps. Chapter 11 will be coming soon (it's the one I'm doing my rewrite on) it's just taking me a little bit longer than I had anticipated to get it to the exact place that I want it to be before posting. Hopefully I'll have it posted tonight or early tomorrow! Fingers crossed!


	11. Welcome Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I know; I am too. But you’re going to get better now, you understand me? We’re going to get you all of the help you need. And this time, we’re all going to be there with you, every step of the way.”

**_July 2014—Present Day 10 days post-accident (continuation from the end of Chapter 10)_ **

Someone was talking. No, that couldn’t be right; there were more voices than just the one and they were all hushed, strained even. Jon tried to listen to hear what they were saying, but his head was so fuzzy and he wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep.

No, he couldn’t. He needed to open his eyes, to communicate. He was going to do it. Jon struggled to open his eyes. They still felt so _heavy_. He tried to lift his arm for what seemed like the hundredth time, but that was even heavier; his fingers still wouldn’t even twitch. He was becoming frustrated and without trying, he let out a pained noise that was somewhere between a grunt and a groan.

The voices stopped in the middle of their sentences and he could hear them all move closer to him. He felt someone—Catelyn he soon realized—grab onto his hand again and give it a gentle squeeze. He let out another pathetic noise and tried to open his eyes again and failed, but the small vocalization was enough to draw everyone in closer. Catelyn gave his hand another comforting squeeze, her thumb running across the back of his hand as she simultaneously brushed his curls away from his forehead with her free hand.

“Shhh, Jon; you’re alright now,” she whispered before pressing a kiss to his temple. “Just take it easy. We’re all right here, waiting. I promise we won’t go anywhere. Your brothers and sisters are all here, along with Sam and even Tormund came. We’re all right here with you.”

 _All_ of his siblings? That meant Robb and Theon were there as well; he wanted to see them all so badly, but there was no mention of his father or Charlotte being there. He continued to struggle to open his eyes and managed to give Catelyn’s hand a weak squeeze. When he did, Catelyn’s voice caught in her throat and Jon knew she was close to tears.

“Relax, Jon. Just relax,” she said soothingly, her voice an octave higher than usual almost as if she was trying to fight back tears. “You’ll be able to open your eyes soon.”

Jon reluctantly listened to his mother and tried to relax as best as he could. When she went to pull her hand back, he gave hers another squeeze and tried to hold her there. The weak gesture was enough for Catelyn to keep a tight grip on Jon’s hand and she sighed as she brought his hand up to her lips. The longer he relaxed, the less heavy his eyelids felt, though his head still felt as if it was filled with lead; he couldn’t even turn it. He tried once again to open his eyes and to his, and everyone else’s surprise, he successfully managed to do so. He attempted a smile that resembled more of a grimace as he watched his family and friends slowly come into focus.

“Welcome back, baby brother,” Robb murmured from the foot of Jon’s bed.

Jon attempted another smile and dropped his eyes to his arms where he saw the various IVs taped to his skin. He wrinkled his nose as the nasal cannula scratched at his nose uncomfortably. None of that really mattered to him though. He just wanted Charlotte. He vaguely remembered her coming to see him earlier, but even that memory came in short spurts. As he looked back up, he took in all of the familiar faces around him, even Tormund. Seeing Tormund there made his throat tighten and it took everything he had to swallow which was proving to still be relatively painful. He hadn’t seen Tormund since… since Ygritte.

“Ch—Char…” Jon couldn’t even finish the word. It hurt to talk and his mouth was achingly dry. He looked at those around him, his eyes full of worry.

“Charlotte’s fine, Jon.” It was Arya who had spoken. She looked at him, absolutely terrified, but he noticed that there was a bit of relief creeping along her face as her shoulders slumped down tiredly, as if she had been on edge for days.

Jon managed to give a half a nod and tried speaking again, but the scratchiness of his throat made him grimace and he tried raising his hand high enough to point at the plastic pitcher of water. Arya made the connection between the two quick enough and nodded. “I’ll get you some water. Just hold on.” She filled a cup full and stuck a straw in it before handing it to Catelyn who held it and brought the straw to his lips.

He sucked down the water eagerly, but still winced nonetheless at how painful it still was to swallow. Catelyn handed Arya the glass once Jon was finished and went back to stroking his hair away from his face like she would when he was a little boy. He found it to be soothing and he closed his eyes as he softly croaked out, “Hurts.”

“What hurts, Jon?” This time it was Sam who spoke up, his chubby face still wrought with worry.

Jon tried pointing at his throat but failed and tried to force out a few words. “Th—Throat… hurts.”

“That’s to be expected, sweetie,” Catelyn replied, still stroking his hair. “Do you remember anything that happened? It was a while ago, but you never know.”

Jon managed to shake his head side to side just enough to let them know that he really had no idea what had happened. He tried searching their faces for answers, but he found none. The only thing he saw on their faces were expressions of sadness, worry, and relief all mixed together, tears welling in most of their eyes the longer they watched him. He could feel his neck and cheeks starting to heat up at the thought of everyone _babying_ him, but not talking.

“Well… there was an accident,” Robb started, pulling up a chair to the opposite side of Jon’s bed. He situated himself near Jon’s feet and crossed his legs as he thought of what to say next. His face was unshaven and his eyes were bloodshot, Jon noticed. He wondered if his brother had slept much during the past few nights because it certainly didn’t look like it.

“An accident…” Sansa repeated, unable to meet Jon’s gaze, which made him worry.

“Yes, an accident.” He turned back to Jon and inhaled sharply. “Jon, you’ve been in the hospital for ten days. Ten days ago, you called me, wondering if I could come pick up Charlotte and keep her for the evening because you weren’t feeling good and really wanted to sleep off the bug. I agreed, and I’ll admit that I wasn’t completely observant like I should have been, because if I would have, you wouldn’t be in this situation.” Robb paused and put his face in his hands for a moment before slowly lowering them away and continuing. “Charlotte got sick that night. I called you eleven times, left six voicemails, and sent you seven texts, but you didn’t respond to any of them; I knew that wasn’t normal, so I left Charlotte with Jeyne and drove over to your place, afraid that you had gotten hurt or something. What I found was worse.”

Worse? Why was none of this registering with him? He tried to make himself sit up which caused his vitals to skyrocket. Everyone winced as the beeping of the machines started going off like crazy and Catelyn pushed him back gently.

“Lie down, Jon. You’re fine. Robb will explain everything while I sit you up a bit more.” Catelyn’s eyes were full of tears and even her voice sounded off. With a heavy sigh, Robb continued as Catelyn pressed the button on the side of Jon’s bed to bring it more into a sitting position.

“I saw the mess with the liquor cabinet and went upstairs. I found you sitting on the bathroom floor, slumped against the bathtub, unresponsive. I tried waking you and when that didn’t work, I called for an ambulance while I searched for a pulse. I found one; it was weak and extremely erratic, but it was better than nothing. But then I spotted the empty Percocet bottle and the almost empty bottle of bourbon and I easily put two and two together.” Rob finished his sentence on a cracked note and turned his head toward the door as he closed his eyes. Jon watched as Sansa went up behind him and put her hands on his shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze.

“He needs to hear it, Robb; I know it’s hard to recount what happened, but he needs to know,” Sansa told her older brother quietly. Robb swallowed hard and nodded once before turning back to Jon.

“You stopped breathing,” he blurted out. “You completely stopped breathing; no pulse, nothing. You were gone. I did CPR until the paramedics arrived almost a full ten minutes after I originally called for help. You had stopped breathing for three minutes and eleven seconds. I know this because I kept time. You were rushed to the hospital while I called everyone to let them know what was going on. We’ve been here ever since, all of us sleeping in shifts on the waiting room couches and the hard plastic chairs in here, just waiting for you to open your eyes so we’d know you were going to be alright. _Ten_ days, Jon. Ten.”

Jon felt like he had been hit by a truck as he took the time to let the words of Robb’s horrifying tale sink in. He had overdosed on prescription narcotics and purposely chased them with the alcohol. He couldn’t remember doing it, but he was sure that his brother wasn’t making up some story to tell him; what Robb said must’ve been true. But _why_? He didn’t think the drinking had gotten to be such a big problem, but obviously he was wrong about that. He swallowed over the rising lump in his throat as tear pricked angrily at the corners of his eyes. He felt so guilty for putting them through all of this, and he couldn’t even remember what happened, nor could he tell them why he did what he did. If he had to guess, however, he’d say it had something to do with Ygritte. She had been the source of the increased drinking over the past seven months. He knew it, and he had a sinking feeling that the rest of his family now knew about it as well. He felt ashamed for what he had done, especially when he thought of all of the help he had been offered by his family and friends. He just kept pushing them away, always making excuses and placating them with false smiles and laughs that were a little too dull to be realistic. But they had believed him; they had wanted to believe that he had gotten better and that he was making progress. He _was_ the one telling them how great he felt.

Lies. Lies. Lies. Everything was a complete and total lie.

“By the time we got here, mate, your doctor had already started pumping your stomach of all of the alcohol and narcs that you took. It was pretty touch-and-go for a while with you, I’m afraid,” Theon said as Robb got up to go stand by the window, his gaze locked on the setting sun. “They couldn’t get you to wake up or really respond to anything and you weren’t breathing on your own. You were on a ventilator for eight of the ten days. They started weaning you off it on day five and on day nine, they took you off it completely and just used an intubation tube since you were still struggling to breathe on your own a bit.”

Everything was running together; there was so much information that Jon was trying to take in and process all at the same time. He had overdosed, he gathered that much; Robb had found him and he was rushed to the hospital where they pumped his stomach and tried to get him to breathe on his own again… He closed his eyes and grunted. He was feeling pretty exhausted already.

“Do you remember earlier today? You started to choke on the intubation tube. We were told to expect it to happen once your body could breathe on its own completely, and it did. Charlotte was here for a while and was here when it happened. But she’s alright,” Catelyn murmured.

Jon’s eyes snapped open at the mention of Charlotte and he looked at his mother. He had vague, almost dreamlike memories of something like that happening, but now that he knew Charlotte had witnessed it, he _needed_ to see her, to make sure she knew he was okay. Why wouldn’t they just bring her in already? He missed her as much as she missed him. Ten days seemed like a lifetime to children as little as Charlotte. Seeing the panic and worry in Jon’s eyes, Catelyn immediately tried to calm him and took his hand in hers once again.

“You don’t need to worry, she’s fine now. She’s with your father now. She was getting tired, so he took her home to feed her dinner and put her to bed. She’ll be in tomorrow to see you.”

“Now,” he croaked out.

“Not tonight, Jon. She’s at home sleeping; she’s had a very rough ten days and needs to rest up. She’ll be thrilled to know you’re awake and want to see her, but it can wait until the morning. Right now, we have a few other things to discuss.” Catelyn sighed heavily and took in a deep breath. Jon knew nothing good would be coming out of this and Catelyn continued, her voice heavy. “We’ve all been worried about you for months, Jon. We as a family should have pushed the issue and our worries more, and we didn’t. We’re all so lucky and so thankful that Robb noticed something amiss with you that night and that he went to find you because if he wouldn’t have gone…”

“Mum, don’t…” Jon whispered as he felt the hot tears roll down his cheeks.

“I have to, Jon. And I have to ask you—and I expect the truth—how long have you been drinking?”

Jon felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach and knocked the wind out of him. He was queasy and tired, and didn’t want to think about it, let alone answer Cat’s question. He knew he had to tell her and everyone else the truth though; they deserved the truth after what he had done.

“After Yggy’s things were gone… so early February if I’d have to guess.” He hated admitting it, but they all knew it stemmed from Ygritte. “Mum… I’m sorry, I should have told you,” he whispered, ignoring the pain as it shot down his throat.

Catelyn didn’t say anything. Instead, she got up from her chair and sat on the edge of Jon’s bed to face him, immediately pulling him into a hug he wasn’t expecting. All it took was Catelyn’s hug to finally get Jon to break. He cried into her shoulder until his eyes were swollen and his nose was stuffy and when they broke their embrace, Cat wiped her thumbs gently under his eyes. After that, he was met with hugs from everyone else that was there, each of them murmuring messages of support into his ear. Even Tormund joined in. When Robb came and sat down beside him, Jon wrapped his arms around his brother and held onto him a little longer than he had done with the others.

“I am _so_ sorry for all of this…”

“I know; I am too. But you’re going to get better now, you understand me? We’re going to get you all of the help you need. And this time, we’re all going to be there with you, every step of the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yaaaaay! I finally got this silly chapter rewritten and everything! I do apologize for the large gap of time between this posting and the one before it. I took an unintentional and unplanned break from writing that I didn't realize I needed until I finally just took a break. I've come to realize that the more I write with this story, the more emotionally invested I get, and I'm getting to a rather difficult part and it takes a lot out of me to really focus and write what needs to be written in such a way that it makes sense and does the story (and the characters) justice. This rewrite also took a lot out of me, simply because I was struggling with it and didn't know where I wanted to take it. So here is the finished product (almost completely new material) and I'm much happier with it and the direction it's leading the rest of the story. 
> 
> So because you all waited so patiently, I'm going to go type up the next chapter (already have it written out) and post it tonight! 
> 
> Thank you for your amazing comments and feedback! 
> 
> Happy reading!


	12. Leap of Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There it was, the question he hated answering, the one he hated to even think about, staring at him right in the face."

**_September 2014—Present Day_ **

Charlotte was sitting on the kitchen counter, swinging her legs back and forth lazily as Jon cracked eggs into a mixing bowl.

“Can I add in the butters, Daddy?”

“Butter, Charlotte. And yes you can; just hold on a second and let me help you first.” Jon moved the mixing bowl closer to his daughter and unwrapped the two sticks of butter, holding them out to her, one at a time. “Go ahead and put them in the bowl.”

Charlotte did as instructed and giggled as the warm butter squished through her fingers a bit as she picked it up. Jon put the bowl back under the mixer and turned it onto medium speed before wetting down a cloth to wipe off Charlotte’s buttery hands before she got them all over herself and the counter.

“As soon as this is done mixing together, we can add in the chocolate chips and mix them up, and then they’ll be ready to be put on the cookie sheet.”

“Yay! I do it?” she asked happily as she clapped her now clean hands together.

“Yes, you can add them,” he replied as his phone started to ring. He pulled it out of his pocket and glanced down at the name. He slid the answer bar over and pressed the phone to his ear, but spoke to Charlotte. “I have to go take this call. You sit right there and watch the mixer; don’t try and get down or touch anything. Just _watch._ I’ll be right back.”

Charlotte nodded and leaned over to watch the cookie dough mix together as Jon stepped into the dining room where he could have some privacy while still keeping a close eye on Charlotte.

“Hey, Robb; sorry about that.”

“Not a problem. Nice to hear your voice, bro. What are you and the little princess up to?”

“Today we’re baking chocolate chip cookies. She’s been begging me for two days now. It was either this or have _another_ pretend tea party with her fifteen-thousand stuffed animals. I finally cracked and gave into baking cookies.”

Robb laughed and continued. “Sounds like you’ve turned yourself into quite the baker at the hands of your five year old daughter. Anyway, the reason I’m calling was to see if you’d mind me dropping by for a bit?”

“No, not at all; I’m sure Charlotte will be excited to know that you’re coming. Hold on—Charlotte, I said _no._ Don’t put your fingers in the cookie dough!—Sorry… she thinks she can get away with just about anything these days.”

“Ah, I remember the boys at that age… they never really grew out of that stage, but I hear girls do and that they mature faster than boys anyway. I mean, look at Sansa for example. She was better behaved than we ever were. Alright, I’ll be over in about 45 minutes or so.”

“This is true,” Jon chuckled, leaning against the door frame. “I’ll see you in a bit.” Charlotte looked up at Jon and scoffed at the fact that he hadn’t returned to help her add the chocolate chips.

“Daddy! It’s been done for forebber!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he replied as he slid his phone back into his pocket. “Have a little patience, little miss.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes in a typical fashion that Jon associated with her mother as she picked up the bag of chocolate chips. “All of them?”

“Yes, all of them. But add them slowly so they don’t spill out everywhere.”

Jon turned off the mixer and slid the bowl back to Charlotte where she did as she was told and after the chips had gotten mixed up into the cookie dough, both Jon and Charlotte balled the dough together and placed it on the cookie sheets. As he was placing the cookies in the oven, he told Charlotte that Robb was coming by for a visit and she squealed excitedly.

When Robb arrived later that day, he had both of the boys with him. He rang the doorbell and Charlotte sat up on the couch and turned back to look at Jon. “Daddy! Can I get it?”

“Yes, you can get the door,” he chuckled as he paused her movie before getting up to follow her to the door.

Robb and the boys were both greeted by a grinning Charlotte at the front door and Robb scooped her up with a laugh. “Hey, little princess! I heard that you and your Daddy made chocolate chip cookies earlier today. Did you save any for me?”

“O’course! I get you one!”

“I’ll take one later, sweetie, but thank you. Why don’t you and your cousins go play for a bit? Your Daddy and I need to talk about boring Daddy stuff.”

Charlotte wiggled out of Robb's arms and nodded, leading her two cousins to the back door that led to the patio. “Okays, we be back laters!”

Jon sighed at Charlotte’s grammar and shook his head as he shut the front door behind Robb before leading him into the dining room. He sat down at the small table and angled his chair so he could look out the window to keep an eye on his nephews and daughter.

“How’re you liking the new place?” Rob asked.

“Pretty well, actually. The first few nights were rough on Charlotte, but I figured that was all because of it being a new house. She’s adjusted fairly well by now though. She’s also a huge fan of the princess themed room. I’ve been meaning to call Dad and thank him again for coming over and helping me get it put together.” He shrugged and adjusted himself in the chair. “I just figured it was time for a change and that we could both benefit from it. I’m glad we did it.”

“That’s wonderful to hear. I’m glad things are working out for you so far. How’s therapy going? Mum told me they finally dropped your sessions from three times a week to two times a week. That’s a good thing, right?”

If Robb would have asked Jon that question a few weeks ago, he would have shut down immediately, but now he felt more comfortable discussing it. He had been told in his tri-weekly (now bi-weekly) sessions that he needed to start _talking._ Talking was an important part of the healing process he had been told. And if Jon was completely honest with himself, talking really did seem to help, as long as he was completely honest with everyone. He got up from the table, giving the children a quick glance, and stepped into the adjoining kitchen. 

“It’s a good thing from what I’ve gathered; it means I’m making progress.”

“Do _you_ feel like you’re making progress?” Robb called from the dining room.

“Yeah, I do actually. It’s gotten a lot better since I first started after getting out of the hospital,” he replied as he poured two mugs of coffee which he brought back into the dining room with him. He sat one down in front of his brother before taking his seat, coffee still in hand. “And Charlotte has been handling all of this really well, especially for her age; I’m extremely fortunate for that too.”

Rob regarded his brother fondly and gave him a big grin before sipping at his coffee. “I’m glad to hear that you’re making progress and getting back to your regular self, really. I can’t help but feel a little guilty about all of this happening though,” he mumbled into his coffee.

Jon sighed and reached out to clasp his brother on the shoulder. “Stop. Don’t you dare blame yourself for what happened to me. It wasn’t something that just happened overnight; it was gradual and built up over time. I figured I could handle it because I was still functioning and no one seemed to notice that I wasn’t alright. I denied help and kept assuring all of you that I was fine when I really wasn’t. I knew something was wrong, I can admit that now. I had a problem that I was struggling to face and deal with. You could have bothered me about it every day and I wouldn’t have caved into your persistence. What happened that night was… I don’t even know what to call it. All I know is that it served as a wakeup call for me. I might not be back at 100 percent yet, but I’m working on it. For you, for the rest of the family, for Charlotte, for me.”

Robb placed his mug on the table and pushed it back to keep from spilling it and pulled Jon into a tight embrace, not saying a word. Jon hugged him back just as tightly and squeezed his eyes shut. After a few moments of silence, Robb pulled back and studied his brother’s face carefully.

“You know I wouldn’t ask unless I thought it was necessary…. How’s the drinking?

“I’m doing a lot better with that too. I haven’t had anything to drink or kept any in the house since I got home from the hospital. I poured all of it down the sink as soon as I came home. I don’t ever want to touch the stuff again and I don’t want the temptation there either, ya know?”

“Yeah, I do,” he nodded. “Are you sleeping better? I can tell you’re eating better; you actually look healthy again instead of sickly and underfed.”

“Most nights, yeah. I do still wake up because of a few night terrors though, but I was told that was normal and to be expected. Other than that, I’m able to sleep pretty comfortably.” He outlined the rim of his mug with his index finger, keeping his gaze from Robb’s as he mentally braced himself for the inevitable question he knew Robb was going to ask at any moment.

“Jon… be honest with me now. Have you gone to see Ygritte yet?”

There it was, the question he hated answering, the one he hated to even think about, staring at him right in the face. He forced himself to look up at Robb as he shook his head. “No, I haven’t,” he paused and cleared his throat before continuing. “Though even my therapist has said I need to go see her; she said it’ll help and that I needed to do this and take the next step. She said I won’t get any better unless I do it.” Jon sighed and dropped his eyes back to his coffee for the second time.

“You need to do this, Jon; listen to what your therapist is saying. She’s right. I know you’ve been through a lot recently, and I know that you’ve been avoiding this, but you can’t avoid it forever. You and Charlotte both need to go.... You need to take that leap of faith and just go.”

Jon’s mouth had gone dry as he looked back up. “I don’t know if I can. I don’t think I’m ready….”

“You can do it and you _are_ ready. I’ll even go with you if you’d like. I want to see you get better.”

Jon went silent and looked out the window, refusing to answer Robb, who continued to press the issue after they sat in silence for a while.

“Jon, what do you say?”

Letting out a defeated sigh, he agreed, knowing that there was no way to get out of it. “Alright, I’ll go see Ygritte. Just give me some time to prepare for it; I promise I’ll go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you I'd get this chapter posted tonight! Funny story though.... This would have been posted earlier, but I typed the wrong chapter and it was close to 3,000 words. Ha. My life. Oh well, that means I can post it whenever I want tomorrow! I hope you liked this one!
> 
> Though, for all of you optimists out there, I'm going to quote Ramsay Bolton: "If you think this has a happy ending, you haven't been paying attention." Just keep that in mind. [Insert evil cackling here.] (:
> 
> Thank you as usual for the kind words and feedback! 
> 
> Happy reading! (Also, if there are any typos that you see, PLEASE let me know so I can edit! I typed this at 2am.)


	13. The Next Step

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "By this point, even his therapist was pushing him to go and take the next step. You won’t get any further than this if you don’t, she would tell him at the end of each session, and he’d nod every time, tell her he understood and that he was working on it. This time, he was really going to do it. He needed to be strong."

**_October 2014—Present Day_ **

Jon Stark would have _killed_ for a single drink in that very moment.

 _You don’t need it; it won’t help you. You can do this,_ he kept reminding himself. He had been doing so well since July. He refused to screw up what he had worked so hard to achieve. But still, nonetheless, Jon Stark really could have used that drink.

He cleared his throat and pushed himself to his feet. He needed to tell Charlotte—she’d be so excited. He had kept putting this off for the past three weeks, and it was time he got it over with. He needed to do it for himself and Charlotte both. Like Catelyn had repeatedly told him, Charlotte didn’t deserve to be punished. By this point, even his therapist was pushing him to go and take the next step. _You won’t get any further than this if you don’t,_ she would tell him at the end of each session, and he’d nod every time, tell her he understood and that he was working on it. This time, he was really going to do it. He needed to be strong.

“Charlotte, sweetie? Come here, I have something to tell you, princess.”

Charlotte came running from her playroom and met Jon in the living room, a large grin spreading across her face as she held up her arms to be picked up. “Is it a secret, Daddy?” she asked, her blue eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“Not really. It’s more of a surprise.” He smiled a bit as he bent down to pick her up. Charlotte wrapped an arm around the back of his neck and twisted his hair around her fingers as her other hand fidgeted with the pair of sunglasses hooked to the front of Jon’s shirt. “We’re going to go on a little trip with Grandma, Grandpa, and Uncle Robb. How does that sound?”

The little girl screeched loudly in Jon’s ear and bounced up and down repeatedly in his arms, her little legs kicking excitedly. “Yeah, yeah, yeah! Where we goin’ Daddy? I wanna know!”

 _To the movies. Out to eat. Build-A-Bear. Shopping for new shoes. Anywhere but where I’m supposed to be taking you,_ he wanted to say.

“To go see Mummy.”

Charlotte’s eyes went wide and she stopped jumping up and down in his arms. She had wanted to go see Ygritte for _months_ but she had always been told “no” whenever she would ask. She studied Jon carefully, as if she would be able to detect him lying, and spoke softly. “You really mean it, Daddy?”

“I really mean it. Let’s go get your shoes on and find your jacket. It’s a bit chilly out today.” He carried Charlotte out of the living room and to her bedroom where he helped her tie her shoes and pick out a jacket.

He had told Robb he would meet him and their parents there and that he wanted to take Charlotte himself and have some time alone with her. They had all understood and had agreed to meet up at 1:00 that afternoon. Now that it was time to leave, Jon was regretting his decision to not get a ride with Robb. His mind was all over the place and he was finding it difficult to focus on anything besides meeting his brother and parents without turning around. Jon was about to pull out of the driveway when Charlotte’s shrill voice filled the car, causing Jon to slam on the breaks.

“Daddy! Seatbelt!”

“Charlotte, don’t _scream_ like that; you scared Daddy half to death.” He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment before looking down. He was surprised to see that he had neglected to put on his seatbelt, a habit he followed habitually; he had even made sure to instill the importance of wearing a seatbelt into Charlotte’s brain from the time she could understand what he meant.

_Focus, Jon. You can do this._

He took a deep break, fastened his seatbelt, and wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans before pulling out onto the road. The entire drive, Charlotte talked excitedly about seeing Ygritte and how much she missed her. Jon, however, remained silent, only able to manage a few head nods and the occasional grunt, just so Charlotte knew he was listening to everything she had to say. His head felt heavy and his stomach had tied itself into so many knots, he was in physical pain. If it would have been just him in the car, he would have pulled into someone’s driveway, turned around, and went back home, promising that he’d go the next week. But he had Charlotte with him and he had already told her where they were going. There was no turning back, no matter how strong the urge became.

Being able to finally put the car in park came as an overwhelming relief to Jon. His hands were wrapped around the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles had turned white and he rested his forehead against the wheel, closing his eyes. He needed a moment to regroup. That moment didn’t last long as Robb came up soon thereafter, tapping lightly on Jon’s window with his knuckle. Jon jumped, startled, and glared at his brother who gave him an apologetic smile. He hesitated only slightly before putting the window to the car down and turned his neck that was so tight with tension it could have snapped, toward his brother. He didn’t even attempt to give Robb a smile.

“Are you going to turn the car off anytime soon or just run it until all the gas runs out?” Robb joked, leaning his arms on the window frame.

Jon ignored him. “Can you have Mum or Dad get Charlotte out of the car? The childproof locks are turned on so she can’t get out from the inside,” he mumbled in a strained voice. Robb nodded and turned back to his parents and shouted for their father. Ned came over and opened Charlotte’s door, the little girl immediately clinging to her grandfather in excitement.

“Gran’pa!” She shrieked as she wrapped her arms around his neck for a tight hug. Jon waved his father, daughter, and mother on; he couldn’t get out of the car himself.

“Jon…”

Why did Robb’s voice sound so far off? Why couldn’t he do this? He thought he was ready; he thought he could handle it and be strong for Charlotte. Instead, Charlotte was the one being strong for him. He couldn’t do this, he realized. He kept a tight grip on the steering wheel and closed his eyes.

“I thought I could do it,” he whispered. “I thought I was ready to see her, but I’m not. I was wrong. I can’t do this.”

“You _can_ do this. I know you can. Look at what you’ve managed to do so far, Jon. This is just the next step. Come on. Roll up the window, turn off the car, and come with me. You can do this.”

Jon opened his eyes and looked up at his brother. He looked worn down, tired, defeated.

“I can’t. I haven’t been to see her since January. How does that reflect back on me? There’s no way she’ll forgive me. I’ve kept Charlotte away because of my own selfishness. I’ve said stupid, stupid things, and placed all of the blame on her for what happened, when in reality it wasn’t her fault. It was mine. I know that now and I knew it then, but it was easier to blame her rather than myself. She won’t forgive me. How could she?”

“Ygritte knows you, knows your heart, and you know hers just as well. She’ll forgive you, Jon. Come on now. I’ll walk with you the entire way. You’ve got this.”

Jon reluctantly rolled up the windows and turned off the car before getting out. His legs were shaking as his knees threatened to give out from underneath him, his face turning pale. Robb clapped a hand tightly on his brother’s shoulder and propelled him forward, refusing to let go in case Jon decided to stop walking.

Upon seeing Jon and Robb nearing them, Catelyn took Charlotte’s hand and gently pulled her back a bit, Ned turning to follow. She knew Jon needed a bit of privacy and she would give him that. Robb stopped walking when he reached his parents and niece, gently dropping his hand from his brother’s shoulder. Jon never felt it leave. Even if he wanted to stop walking, he couldn’t have stopped; he was there and so was she. Time to take the next step.

Eventually, Jon came to a stop, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, head down, and his shoulders slumped forward. He couldn’t bring himself to raise his eyes, no matter how hard he tried. Everyone stood in silence for what seemed like eternity, but Jon finally managed to croak out a single word as he felt the sudden onslaught of tears come spilling down his cheeks.

“Yggy…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in this chapter! AO3 was down for a while so I wasn't able to update! But everything seems to be going rather smoothly now, so here's the next chapter! Hope you enjoy! The story is quickly approaching the end, so I thank you all for taking the time to read, comment, and give kudos! You're all so wonderful!
> 
> Happy reading!


	14. You Promised Me Forever Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Of course I know ya love me. I've never doubted that for a minute. And I hope ya know I love ya too. Forever, remember?"

**_Part 1: January 8th 2014—Flashback_ **

"Ygritte, you  _need_  to hurry up or we're going to be late and miss our dinner reservations," Jon groaned from the foyer as he slumped back against the front door, hands tucked loosely in his coat pockets. 

"I'm comin', Pretty Boy, calm down!" she shouted over her shoulder from the kitchen before going back to her original conversation. 

With an irritated sigh, Jon pushed off from the door and began to make his way to the kitchen when he got stopped by Charlotte who looked up at him expectantly with a grin on her face. Without a word, Jon bent down and picked the little girl up and carried her with him into the kitchen where he walked in on Sansa and Ygritte talking hurriedly about something he didn't quite understand. 

"Sorry ladies, but I'm cutting gossip hour short for the evening. You can resume your conversation later this evening or tomorrow during a lunch date," he announced as he kissed Charlotte's cheek. Her nose wrinkled up as she pushed his face away. 

"Ouch! Your beard is scratchy!" She grumbled, reaching out for Sansa to take her. 

"Pretty Boy," Ygritte sighed, leaning an elbow on the counter, "Yer actin' like—"

"I don't want to hear it. You've known about these reservations for two weeks now. We're going. Say goodbye to the princess so we can go."

Ygritte shot him a glare before taking Charlotte from Sansa, peppering her face with light kisses and tickling her belly playfully. Charlotte laughed and tried wiggling out of Ygritte's grip, her voice high pitched as she squealed for her to stop tickling her. 

Ygritte laughed and sat her daughter on the edge of the counter with a smile. "Ya need to be good for Aunt Sansa, alright?"

"Otay, Mummy! I be good!"

Ygritte kissed Charlotte's cheek as the little girl wrapped her arms around her mum's neck, giving her a squeeze. "I love ya, Princess. I'll see ya in the morning, bright and early."

"Lub you toos," Charlotte echoed before being handed back to Sansa who propped the little girl on one hip. 

Jon blew a kiss at Charlotte and smiled. "Love you too, Princess. Be good, baby." He looked at Sansa and took Ygritte's hand, pulling her away from the counter. "We should be home around 11:00, 11:30 at the latest. Bath time in a half an hour at 7:30, bed time at 8:15. Oh, and don't hesitate to call if you need us."

"We'll be fine, won't we, Char?" Sansa asked with a laugh as she bounced the little girl. "Alright, now you two need to really get going or you  _will_  miss dinner."

"That's exactly what I was thinking. Let's go, Yggy. Bye, Princess! Thanks again, San."

Ygritte looked at Jon for a moment before snatching his keys out of his free hand and smirked. "Let's go, Pretty Boy," she replied as she headed outside to the car. Once in the car, Jon looked out his window and smiled, waving at Sansa and Charlotte both who were standing on the front porch, wrapped in a blanket, before Ygritte pulled out of the driveway. 

"Ya know I hate leavin' her like this," Ygritte murmured after a long stretch of silence. Jon sighed and shifted against the leather seat. 

"I know, but she's with Sansa. They'll both be fine. Let's just enjoy dinner and the movie, alright?"

Ygritte looked over at him and smiled, one hand reaching out and taking one of his. "I know; thank ya for doin' this. We don't get to spend as much alone time together anymore. I really appreciate what you've done."

He squeezed her hand as he stared out the windshield. He glanced over at her as she hummed quietly to herself and he couldn't help but smile. "You know I love you, right?"

"Of course I know ya love me. I've never doubted that for a minute. And I hope ya know I love ya too. Forever, remember? Though, if that bloody work phone of yers starts goin' off, I  _will_ get angry and start questionin' how much I really do love ya."

"I already told Thorne not to call unless there was an actual emergency."

Ygritte's head snapped to the side and her eyes narrowed dangerously as they flicked between Jon and the road. "No. Ya promised me no work business anymore when we're on date nights."

"He'd only be calling me if there's an emergency. Come on, I doubt he'll even call."

"He always bloody calls! When I say no work, I  _mean_  it. The last time he called, ya ended up leavin' dinner early to go deal with somethin' silly." She was getting angry with him, but that didn't stop him from trying to protest. As he opened his mouth to retort, his work phone began to ring and Ygritte slammed on her brakes rather roughly at the red light she was coming upon.

She was seething. Absolutely furious, and Jon knew it just from the look on her face. 

"Ygritte, please... It's Throne. I—"

"Don't 'Ygritte please' me! I know who's on that phone. Don't ya dare answer it, Jon Stark," she growled as his thumb hovered over the green "ACCEPT" button. 

"Stop and pay attention—the light is green."

Ygritte took her foot off the brake as Jon's phone beeped, signaling that he had a missed call that had been sent to voicemail. 

"Give it here," Ygritte said, holding her hand out for the phone.

"Ygritte, no. I can't. I have to call him back. It could be important."

"No ya don't! Other people can handle it! Yer supposed to have the weekend off for a reason!" She glanced at him quickly and tried to make a grab for his phone as she leaned over the console, but instead of securing the phone for herself, she knocked it out of his hand and it fell, bouncing off the gear shift, and landing on the floorboard near her feet. 

"Ygritte, just let me give him a quick call back and then I'll turn my phone off directly after that." He leaned over and bent down, reaching his arm around her legs as he tried to reach his phone that was ringing for the second time. 

"No!" She snapped, shoving him in the head with her free hand. "No work at all." The phone went to voicemail for the second time and Jon groaned. He knew arguing with Ygritte would be a waste of time and completely pointless because she had already made up her mind; once her mind was made up, there was no changing it. Jon had learned that pretty early on in their relationship. She did have a point though, and he knew it. There were plenty of people who were working that could handle emergencies, but he liked being involved and know what was happening. The only problem now was that he  _needed_  to call Thorne back. He had called twice within minutes of each other, which didn't happen often, and Jon knew that meant nothing but trouble. 

Ygritte had bent down a bit, straining to get the phone herself. She could feel her fingers brush over the side of the case and she let out a grunt as her fingers accidentally shifted the phone farther up, lodging it up under the brake pedal as she went around a curve. 

"Oh well shit," she grumbled, sitting back up for a moment. 

"What?"

"The phone moved when I went to grab it and it's now under the brake—the pedal won't go all the way down like it needs to now. I need to get it out from under there."

"Let me help you," Jon sighed, bending down himself as Ygritte attempted to kick it free with her left foot. She moved it a bit and she leaned back down trying to reach the phone while simultaneously watching the road.

"No, stop! I've almost got it," she said as Jon rolled his eyes, mumbling about something Ygritte didn't quite catch. He sat up as she took a quick glance at the floorboard to see where the phone was.  _Damn_. It was still under the brake pedal. Out of nowhere, Jon shouted. 

"Ygritte,  _stop_!"

She looked up from the floorboard just in time to see two deer standing in the middle of her lane. Her first reaction was to slam on the break, but the phone was still lodged in the space between the floor and the pedal and she couldn't stop. The speed of the car declined slowly, but not quickly enough to get stopped. Jon threw his arms in front of his face to serve as some sort of protection as Ygritte screamed and jerked the wheel to avoid a collision with the animals. He didn't see what happened next and all he could hear were his shouts mixed with Ygritte's screaming.

Then everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, don't hate me. I had to split this into two parts (maybe even three... I'm still working on part two and it's getting OBNOXIOUSLY long) because one, I love a good cliffhanger and that was the perfect spot, and two, this section contains a lot more than what I thought. I don't want to cause overload when you're reading it, so I split this chapter up also for necessity and flow of reading. 
> 
> Part two (possibly being split into part three as well) still isn't finished unfortunately. Hopefully I'll get it done and proofed by Friday night. If not, I'd guess I'll be ready by Sunday, but no guarantees.
> 
> Thanks for the kind words and kudos! And shoutout to by best friend for keeping me motivated to write this, even when I want to give up because I'm stuck or it becomes too emotionally taxing. (Yes that happens) (:
> 
> Happy reading!


	15. You Promised Me Forever Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Ygritte Stark, you promised me forever. This isn't forever."

**_Part 2: January 8th, 2014—Flashback_ **

They had stopped moving and Jon could no longer hear Ygritte.

_Ygritte._

His eyes snapped open at the thought and he turned toward her in the seat with a wince. His entire body ached as he moved, but to Jon, the pain didn’t matter. He could tell he had no broken bones. He would be fine, but he needed to see about Ygritte.

When he turned to look at her, his eyes widened and dread filled the pit of his stomach. They had gone off the road and had somehow managed to slam into a tree on the driver’s side. Ygritte’s window was shattered, the glass littering the interior of the car. The airbags had also gone off, the windshield caked in the powder that had resulted in their deployment. Ygritte was slumped forward, her hands loosely holding onto the bottom of the steering wheel.

“Ygritte? Honey, are you okay?”

When she didn’t respond right away, Jon felt his heart go into his throat and he called out to her a few more times, his voice scratchy and strained. It wasn’t until he put a hand on her arm and gently nudged her that she responded with a painful whimper. Jon exhaled, dropping his hand from her arm with a heavy thud. She was responsive. A good sign. He needed to get her talking, but it was hard for him to concentrate on that as his head pounded miserably while his neck started to stiffen.

“Ygritte, I’m right here. You’re alright, you’re going to be alright,” he said, his voice just above a whisper. Ygritte responded with that same whimper and Jon tugged at his seatbelt until he could finally get it unbuckled. He let out a grunt as he pulled the two pieces together as a voice came through the speakers—the car assistance. For the first time, Jon was thankful Ygritte had talked him into paying for the feature on the car, something he hadn’t found necessary.

“Hello? My name is Sheila here at Car Assist. We’ve detected a crash. Is everyone okay? Does anyone need emergency medical attention?”

Ygritte’s head had slumped forward even more, causing Jon to panic again. He pressed the small green button on the dash as hard as he could to respond to the woman and said, “No… No, my wife… she’s hurt. I don’t know how bad, but it’s _bad._ Please, send someone.” It was hard for Jon to keep the panic out of his voice, but he somehow managed to do so.

There was a brief pause on the other end of the car assistance and Jon felt his breath hitch in his throat, thinking that the signal had been lost. He was about to press the button again when the woman came back through on the speakers.

“Okay, I’ve got help on the way; we’ve detected your location via GPS signal. Just stay calm and help will be arriving very soon. The estimated time for medical assistance is ten to fifteen minutes out.”

Jon didn’t respond to the woman but instead adjusted himself, turning his body as much as possible, in order to get closer to Ygritte. He took her head in his hands and tilted it back as gently as possible against the headrest.

“Yggy. Ygritte. Wake up. Open your eyes for me.” His voice strained as he fought the urge to try and shake her awake, knowing that it could cause more of an issue. “Ygritte, you _have_ to open your eyes,” he said a bit louder and sterner. “Ygritte!”

After calling out her name repeatedly a few more times, each time more strained than the last, Ygritte managed to open her eyes half way, her face automatically contouring into pain. Tears pricked at her eyes and she squeezed them shut again as she let out a sob of pain. Jon closed his eyes and allowed his shoulders to slump down tiredly.

“Oh thank the gods, Yggy. You’re all right, sweetheart. Help is on the way; you’re all right,” he whispered, trying to assure not only her, but himself as well.

Her hand had found his on the console and rested on top of it limply. “It hurts,” she said through a whimper, her eyes still squeezed tightly together.

“What hurts, Yggy? Tell me so I can help,” he told her as he opened his eyes once again. He grabbed her hand and held onto it tightly. “Tell me what hurts.”

“ _Everything._ Everything hurts and my… my….”

“Your what? Tell me; it’s going to be okay.”

“It just _hurts_ ,” is all she could manage to explain. She forced herself to open her eyes and looked up at him, her face drained of all color. “You… You’re bleeding. Your head, I mean. Are you hurt?”

With a look of confusion, Jon touched his head gingerly and winced at the pain he experienced. When he looked down, he saw his hand covered in blood. Pushing his own wellbeing to the side for the moment, he wiped his hand on his shirt and shook his head. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. You need to tell me what hurts.”

She began to tell him that it felt as if a ton of bricks were pressing down on her chest, but before she could fully articulate what was wrong she began coughing uncontrollably. Jon pulled her hair away from her face as she doubled over and rubbed her back, unsure of what else to do. She sat back up, her hand still covering her mouth, and closed her eyes for a moment. She pulled her hand away and looked at it. It had come back red.

“Jon…”

“Shhh, it’ll be okay.”

Tears started to well up in her eyes again as she started to cough. It was becoming even harder for her to breathe this time and panic was starting to set in. “I… I can’t feel anything below my waist and I can’t b-breathe.” Her voice was thick with panic and she was taking rapid, shallow breaths, so Jon took her head in his hands and ran his thumbs over her cheekbones as he gently shushed her.

“Relax, Ygritte. Just relax. You’re okay. You’re just pinned in there pretty tight is all… you’ll be fine as soon as they get here and help you out of the car. Breathe. Just focus on breathing.”

“I _can’t_ ; it hu-hurts and it’s h-ha-hard. Oh gods….” She closed her eyes and let out a choked sob, her chest rising and falling faster than it had been.

“Yggy, open your eyes for me. Please. Don’t cry, you’ll only make it harder on yourself. I’m right here, I’m right here. You’re going to be just fine.”

Ygritte coughed again, harder this time. Jon didn’t know someone could look so pale. When she brought her hand away, her chapped lips had fresh blood on them. He felt a crushing weight on his chest as she continued to deteriorate in front of him. She closed her eyes and let her hand fall into a limp heap in her lap.

“Yggy!”

She jerked back awake and made a noise that was somewhere in between a whimper and a groan.

“Baby,” he whispered, “just hold on a little bit longer. I know it hurts.”

“Jon…”

“Don’t call me ‘Jon;’ that means things are serious,” he pleaded with her softly, his voice full of tears.

“Th-This is s-serious. Jon, listen to me.”

“Stop it, Ygritte. No. We aren’t going to have this discussion. Not here and not now. Not ever. You promised me.”

Ygritte had went silent and turned her head to the side just enough to look at Jon. Her once vibrant blue eyes were dull and swimming with tears. She searched Jon’s face, her eyes roaming over it again and again as if she would forget what he looked like if she didn’t study him enough. She blinked and tears began rolling down her cheeks silently. Jon leaned over, pressed his forehead to hers, and shook his head “no.”

“We have to J-Jon. Ya know it’s… come…coming, whether ya want to be-believe it or not. Now listen, please. Pl-Please just… ju-just listen to me.”

“Ygritte, stop,” he said softly, his voice broken, tears staining his cheeks. “You’re going to be fine. Don’t give up. _Please_ don’t. Help should be here any minute. Just hold on.” His hand found hers and squeezed it. “If not for you, hold on for me. I can’t… I can’t do this without you.”

She started coughing again, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he kept their foreheads pressed together and kissed her.

“Ya… Ya’ve seen th-this a d-dozen times at work,” she choked out. “Ya know what’s happenin’…”

“No, you’re not. You can’t,” he pleaded. “Ygritte Stark, you promised me forever. This isn’t forever.”

Ygritte pulled away from him just enough to look at him properly and gave him a watery smile. “I know I d-did, but th-things sometimes… sometimes they ch-change. But I’ll al-always love ya.” She closed her eyes and shivered, coughing weakly.

Jon pulled her back to him and buried his face in her hair, sobbing hard. She was right. Her voice wasn’t the same—it shook and faded as she spoke to him. It took her longer to inhale than it should and she couldn’t stop shaking. Each time she coughed brought up more blood than the time before and Jon was utterly hopeless.

“Shhh, it’s alright. I’m going to be okay,” she replied hoarsely. It was her turn to reassure him that things would be okay. Her voice cracked and wavered, sending her into sobs as well, though hers were much weaker than her husband’s. “I love ya s-so mu-much, Jon S-Stark. More than ya will… more than y-ya will ever kn-know. Just pr-promise me that you’ll tell Char-Charlotte about m-me. And… and tell her h-how… how much I l-love her.”

“Please don’t,” Jon whispered into her hair, unable to look up at her. “I can’t do this without you.”

“Ya can and… and ya will. I’ll b-be there every st-step of the w-way. I p-promised you for-forever, remember?” she closed her eyes and tried to fight off the tears, but gave up after only a few moments. She let out a long breath and Jon bolted upward, afraid that she was gone.

“Open your eyes, Yggy. You’re going to be fine. You’re going to tell Charlotte how much you love her; not me, you. Just hold on.”

She didn’t open her eyes. “I’m cold, Jon… and I’m tired a-and I’m sc-scared. But I l-love ya. Promise me y-you’ll be ok-okay….”

Jon could hear the tears in her voice and his throat constricted.

“Ygritte….”

“ _Promise_ me, Jon…” she cleared her throat and sighed as tears leaked out from under her eyelids. “Hold… Hold me; I ju-just want to sleep and I w-want you to h-hold m-me.”

Without arguing, Jon shifted himself over enough and wrapped his arms around her, her face resting in the crook of his neck. “I promise… but you can do this. Just hold on.”

Ygritte shivered and said, “I can’t. But I’ll al-always love ya… Pr-Pretty Boy… for-forever.”

Jon was silent and closed his eyes, resting his cheek on the top of her head as he rocked her gently. Moments later, she had stopped shaking and he could no longer feel her shallow breaths against his neck. Waves of realization, emotion, and nausea rolled over him, threatening to push him under for good. He gasped heavily, his arms tightening around her, as he realized he had started holding his breath. “I love you so much… I love you so, so, so much, Ygritte,” he whispered into her hair. “Just… please, wake up,” he said weakly, knowing she wouldn’t open her eyes this time.

It was impossible for him to hold back a pained sob as heard the faint screams of the approaching sirens.

**…**

Ygritte was buried on a Thursday. It was a small ceremony, with just close friends and family in attendance.

The cold January wind nipped at everyone’s cheeks until they were red, raw, and chapped. While everyone pulled their scarves up around their faces, Jon acted as if the wind was nothing. He stared blankly at the pale blue casket his mother had picked out days after the accident. He hadn’t been able to do it. He couldn’t bring himself to choose her final outfit either, so he had enlisted the help of Jeyne and his mother. They had taken over the final arrangements for his wife, but he had spiraled into so much grief, their help was exactly what he needed. While they worked, he kept to himself; it was easier that way—he didn’t have to hold it together when he was alone.

Charlotte cried a lot once the realization that Ygritte wouldn’t be returning home finally settled in for her. She cried throughout the day, but even more so at night when Ygritte wasn’t there for hugs and kisses. Jon tried to stay true to his promise and tell Charlotte how much her mum loved her, but it accomplished little. Charlotte continued to cry and there was nothing Jon could do to console his daughter. How was he supposed to help her when he could hardly keep himself together?

While Charlotte cried throughout the day, Jon cried only let himself breakdown at night or in solitude, but _never_ in front of Charlotte. He had to stay strong for her, at least on the surface. Everything was so confusing for her.

After Ygritte’s funeral, Jon sent a very upset and tired Charlotte home with his parents. He told them that he needed a few hours to himself, which they understood. He sat in his car and watched as the twenty or so people got in their own cars. He took one last look at the casket he knew held his wife and drove off.

Eight weeks later, the drinking began. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a tough one to write. 
> 
> Chapter 16 will be posted later today and will be the final chapter.
> 
> Thank you for being such wonderful readers. (:


	16. New Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He knew he and Charlotte would heal and really would be okay. Eventually. Some day.

**_October, 2014—Present Day_ **

Charlotte looked up at her grandparents and tugged on Catelyn’s pant leg. “Grammy? Why is Daddy cryin’?” she whispered as Jon knelt down in front of Ygritte’s headstone, his fingers brushing over her name on the stone.

Catelyn crouched down, pulled Charlotte to her chest, and whispered back to the little girl. “Because he misses your Mummy.”

“Oh… I miss hers too. But me an’ Daddy can visit her nows.”

Jon wiped at his eyes with the heels of his hands and sniffled, pressing his palm to the cool stone. “I love and miss you so much, Yggy, and so does Charlotte.” He dropped his hand and looked over his shoulder, extending a hand toward his daughter. “Come here, baby.”

Catelyn let go of Charlotte and stood up as she toddled off toward Jon who immediately wrapped her up into a tight hug, not wanting to let go. She wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her chin on his shoulder, sighing heavily.

“Daddy,” she whispered, her fingers toying with the curls at the base of his neck. “Does Mummy know I loves her?”

“Oh baby… of course she knows that. And she loves you so much; she’d always talk about how perfect you were.” His grip tightened slightly as he swallowed over the lump that was growing in his throat.

Charlotte turned around so she was facing Ygritte’s headstone and studied the flowers that had been placed there recently. “I miss her.”

Tears began pricking at the corners of Jon’s eyes again as he pressed a kiss to Charlotte’s unruly hair. “I know you miss her, baby. I miss her all the time; we all miss Mummy.”

“Do you still loves her?”

“I’m always going to love Mummy. I just wish she was here with us. It’s been really hard on Daddy to not have Mummy here anymore, just like I’m sure it’s been hard for you.”

As Jon and Charlotte continued their whispered conversation, Ned, Cat, and Robb watched them from a safe distance. Charlotte was pointing to the yellow flowers on Ygritte’s grave as Jon explained that they were her favorite flower and color.

“I hope this helps… both of them, not just Jon,” Cat whispered as Ned slid an arm around her waist.

“I think it’s going to do them both a lot of good, Mum. They’ve been through so much over the last few months; I think this is exactly what they need. It’ll help with getting a bit of closure and moving on, at least for Jon.”

“Daddy, Mummy don’t want you to be sad, okay? Mummy’s always happy, ‘member? Not sad.”

Stunned, Jon looked down and smiled. “How do you know so much?”

“Cause I smart and Mummy love you a whole bunch like me.”

Jon clutched Charlotte to his chest and ran a hand over her curls repeatedly as she hugged him back, squeezing as hard and as tightly as she could. She pulled back just enough and pushed his hair away from his ear and leaned in close, whispering.

“I loves you, Daddy, just like Mummy.”

Jon let Charlotte’s words wash over him and he felt a sudden peace that he hadn’t felt in months. For the first time since Ygritte’s death, he knew he and Charlotte would heal and really would be okay. Eventually. Some day.

It was time for new beginnings.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being such wonderful and dedicated readers to this story! Originally, it had started out as a simple three or four chapter fic and it turned into 16! I've loved writing for you all and I'm so thankful for your wonderful comments and well wishes. I hope you've enjoyed going on this journey with Jon and Charlotte as much as I have. Thank you once again for everything and for reading this story and leaving me kudos and comments. 
> 
> Thank you for being so patient with me when I didn't update as regularly and went on short hiatuses--the creative mind can be a tricky thing to handle. 
> 
> Xx.

**Author's Note:**

> UPDATE AS OF 9/11/2015 (4:40pm EST)  
> Hello everyone! Expect the next chapter sometime today or tomorrow! I'm sorry for not getting it up sooner; I had some family things come up, along with work. It'll be here within the next 48 hours! I promise! Thank you for being so wonderful! 
> 
> UPDATE AS OF 8/20/2015 (2:30am EST)  
> Guys! I wrote the final chapter for this story! I just finished moments ago, actually. I'm just giving you all a quick update before going to bed. There are two chapters left for me to post. I'll be posting them both sometime this evening after I get home from work. Thank you for being wonderful & dedicated readers. 
> 
> UPDATE AS OF 8/6/2015:
> 
> Hello, everyone! Just as a quick update for you all, I've taken a slight break from this story. But don't worry, I plan to get back into writing this weekend and post up more chapters. We're nearing the end of the story (I think; who knows, I might get to the point I consider to be the "end" and realize I have more to tell that I originally thought. We'll cross that path when we get there.) so hopefully I can get everything written and posted so I can start on my next project. (I really can't wait. I've been sitting on this idea for about two weeks now, but I'm refusing to start it until I finish this one for all of my dedicated readers.)
> 
> Thank you all for being so kind and patient! I hope you've enjoyed the first 14 chapters so far!


End file.
